«*. 



LETTERS 



LETTERS 



FROM A FATHER 



HIS SONS IN COLLEGE 



BY SAMUEL 'MILLER, D.D. 

PROFESSOR IN THE THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY, PRINCETON, 
NEW JERSEY. 



Qui studet optatam cursu contingere metam, 
Multa tulit fecitque puer, sudavit et alsit. 

Hor. de Art. Poet. 

Pudore et liberal itate liberos 
Retinere, satius esse credo, quam metu. 

Terence. 




PHILADELPHIA: 
GRIGG AND ELLIOT 

1843. 



1^ 



I 



Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1843, by 

SAMUEL MILLER, D.D. 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Eastern District of 
Pennsylvania. 



/ 



/ 



T. K. & P. G. COLLINS, PRINTERS. 






DEDICATION. 

To every Parent who has a son in college; and 
to every Son who is placed in that interesting and 
responsible situation, this volume is affectionately 
inscribed. The former may, perhaps, learn from 
it to estimate more justly his power, though afar 
off, to contribute toward averting the dangers, and 
promoting the improvement of one unspeakably 
dear to him: and the latter, if he is not blind to his 
own honour and happiness, and reckless to all the 
claims of his friends, his Alma Mater, his Country 
and his God, will certainly find in it counsels not 
unworthy of his most serious regard. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 

The writer of this volume has had five sons 
trained and graduated in the College of New Jer- 
sey. The following Letters, not, indeed, precisely 
in their present form, but in substance, were actu- 
ally addressed to them. There is, probably, not 
one idea contained in this manual which was not, 
during their course in that Institution, distinctly 
communicated to them, either orally or in writing. 
The influence of these counsels on their minds, it- 
is believed, was not wholly useless. May they 
prove still more useful when presented in this re- 
vised and more public form! 

Princeton, March 30, 1843, 



CONTENTS. 



LETTER I. 

PAGE 

INTRODUCTORY, ... .13 



LETTER II. 

OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS, . . .25 

LETTER III. 

MANNERS, 44 

LETTER IV. 

MORALS, . . . . . .68 

LETTER V. 
RELIGION, 81 

LETTER VI. 
REBELLIONS, 113 

LETTER VII. 

HEALTH, 128 

LETTER VIII. 

TEMPERANCE, 145 



10 CONTENTS. 

LETTER IX. 

FORMATION AND VALUE OF CHARACTER, . 163 

LETTER X. 

PAGE 

PATRIOTISM, 176 

LETTER XI. 

PARTICULAR STUDIES, . . . .186 

LETTER XII. 

GENERAL READING, 206 

LETTER XIII. 

ATTENTION, DILIGENCE, . . . .236 

LETTER XIV. 

ASSOCIATIONS, FRIENDSHIPS, . . .251 

LETTER XV. 

LITERARY SOCIETIES IN COLLEGE, . . 266 

LETTER XVI. 

DRESS, 275 

LETTER XVII. 

CARE OF THE STUDENT'S ROOM, . . 282 

LETTER XVIII. 

EXPENSES, • .288 

LETTER XIX. 

ALMA MATER, 300 



CONTENTS. 11 

LETTER XX. 
PARENTS, / 311 

LETTER XXI. 

PAGE 

VACATIONS, 321 

LETTER XXII. 

CONCLUDING REMARKS, . . . .330 



LETTESS,&c 



LETTER I. 

INTRODUCTORY. 

My Dear Sons, 

You have escaped from the place and the name 
of school-boys, and have become members of a, col- 
lege; a college not only venerable for its age and 
standing, but also famous as the Jllma Mater of a 
large number of the most eminent men that have 
ever adorned our country. This step will, no doubt, 
form an important aera in your lives; perhaps more 
important than either you or I now anticipate. In 
placing you in this new and responsible situation, 
my feelings have been peculiar and solemn. I have 
looked back upon my own college course, in ano- 
ther institution, with mingled emotions. The retro- 
spect of its advantages, its pleasing associations, 
both with teachers, and fellow students, and the 
protection and guidance with which I was favoured 
by a merciful Providence, at that season of youthful 
inexperience and peril, never fail to inspire grati- 
tude. But the recollection of my mistakes, my 
2 



14 INTRODUCTION. 

failures, my incorrect estimate of the value of some 
of my prescribed studies and pursuits; my loss of 
precious opportunities, and my false steps, at that 
critical period of my life, is always connected with 
self-reproach. A thousand times have 1 said, "0, 
if I had known as much as I now know of the 
value of certain studies, and the wisdom of certain 
courses of conduct earnestly recommended to me 
by parents and friends— how unspeakably more 
might I have profited by the privileges which I 
was then permitted to enjoy!" 

Can you wonder, then, my dear sons, that I am 
deeply anxious for your welfare and improvement 
in the new situation in which I have thought it my 
duty to place you? And can you doubt that I am 
ardently desirous of imparting to you a portion of 
my early experience? Some of that experience 
was dearly bought. If you are willing and docile 
you may receive the advantages of it upon easier 
terms. The importance of parental instruction and 
discipline is founded on the fact, that every succes- 
sive individual of our species comes into the world 
ignorant, feeble and helpless; and that the same 
process for instilling knowledge into the mind, and 
for restraining the passions, and correcting the evil 
propensities of our nature, must be undergone, de 
novo, in every instance. If you could start with 
the knowledge and the experience with which the 
aged leave off, you would stand less in need of 



INTRODUCTION. 15 

instruction and exhortation from those who have 
gone before yon; but as this is impossible, you must 
be content to acquire knowledge, and to gain the 
mastery over your corrupt propensities in the way 
appointed by a gracious God for our fallen race. 

Listen, then, to a father who loves you most sin- 
cerely; who will never willingly give you a delu- 
sive counsel; who prays that you may be inspired 
with heavenly wisdom; and who can have no 
greater pleasure than to see you pursuing a course 
adapted to render you in the highest degree useful, 
beloved and happy in this world, and forever 
blessed in that more important world which is to 
come. 

But beside my natural affection for you, and my 
tender interest in your welfare, there are other con- 
siderations which present a claim to your attention 
to the counsels contained in these letters. I am the 
son, as you know, of a minister of the gospel, who 
passed through a long life devoted to the acquire- 
ment and the communication of the best of all 
knowledge, and who left me many precious coun- 
sels, the result of his experience, from which I 
should have been inexcusable had I not derived 
some profit. I have myself now lived more than 
three score and ten years, and, of course, have had 
much opportunity of observing the conduct and 
the end of many young men who enjoyed the 
advantages now conferred on you. I have my- 



16 INTRODUCTION. 

self passed through a college course, and, con- 
sequently, know something of the character, the 
habits, and the temptations of college life. I have 
been a trustee of the college with which you are 
connected between thirty and forty years, and, in 
discharging the duties of this office, have become 
intimately acquainted with the docility, the dili- 
gence, and the success of one class of students; and 
with the aberrations, the discipline, the degrading 
habits, and the ultimate destruction of another class. 
It would be strange, indeed, if one who had enjoyed 
advantages, and passed through scenes of this kind, 
should not be in some degree qualified to administer 
warning and caution to those who are beginning a 
course so momentous to each individual as that on 
which you have entered. And it would be sup- 
posing peculiar perverseness and infatuation on 
your part, to doubt whether you ought to regard 
with some respect the counsels of such a friend. 

It has occurred to me, too, that by embodying 
and presenting a few paternal counsels, I may, by 
the Divine blessing, not only profit you; but by of- 
fering them to the public, from the press, become 
instrumental in conferring benefits on the children 
of some of my beloved friends similarly situated 
with yourselves: and possibly the children of others, 
whose faces I never saw, and never shall see in the 
flesh, may not be wholly unprofited by the counsels 
of an old man, who was once in their situation, and 



INTRODUCTION. 17 

whose duty and happiness it is to promote the wel- 
fare of ingenuous youth, wherever and whenever 
they may be placed within his reach. 

I acknowledge, also, I am not without some hope 
that another benefit may result from the prepara- 
tion of this manual. I am persuaded that some, at 
least, of the young men whose disorders in college 
degrade themselves, distress their parents, and give 
trouble to their teachers, are betrayed into their ill 
conduct more by thoughtlessness, by inexperience, 
and by ignorance of the world, than by any fixed 
purpose of insubordination or rebellion. They be- 
come delinquents more from inadvertence and juve- 
nile folly, than from settled design; and, of course, 
what they chiefly need is to have their attention 
called to a variety of subjects, connected with col- 
lege discipline, and college duty, in regard to which 
their views and habits are at present erroneous, 
chiefly because they have never seriously consider- 
ed them; and have never been taught better. The 
benefit of such young men is not only earnestly to 
be desired, but their case is far from being hopeless. 
There is every prospect that discreet and well di- 
rected efforts may make an impression conducive 
to their permanent good. If, therefore, while I put 
you on your guard against the company and the 
influence of such young men, as long as their pre- 
sent habits continue; they should be disposed to take 
the friendly hints here dropped, and to "consider 



18 INTRODUCTION. 

their ways," we may all have reason to rejoice to- 
gether that this labour of sincere good will has not 
been in vain. 

It is common to remind the young that they oc- 
cupy a station in their course peculiarly critical and 
important; that youth is the seed-time of life; that 
this is the period in which knowledge is to be ac- 
quired, habits to be formed, and provision to be 
made for all coming time. To young men in col- 
lege all these suggestions are peculiarly appropriate. 
To no point of time, perhaps, in your whole course, 
can the epithets critical and important be so justly 
and strongly applied as to that which embraces your 
college life. Now you are first brought into any 
thing like close contact with the world. Now your 
character is to be tried in a manner that it has 
never yet been. Now you are to be left more to 
yourselves than heretofore. Now it is to be seen 
whether your love of knowledge is so great as that 
you will study with diligence when not constantly 
under the immediate eyes of your teachers. Hither- 
to you have had few associations but with the sober 
and orderly. Now you are to stand the test of 
being associated with some of a very different cha- 
racter. In your college course habits in some re- 
spects new are to be formed. Various kinds of 
knowledge, to which you have been heretofore 
strangers, are to be acquired. Your characters are 
to receive a stamp which will, in all probability, be 



INTRODUCTION. 19 

indelible. It is during the few years which, if your 
lives are spared, you are expected to spend in this 
institution, that it is to be seen whether you can 
withstand the blasts of corrupt influence with which 
every college, known to me, is more or less infected; 
whether you will have wisdom given you to appre- 
ciate the danger, and to turn away from the " in- 
struction that causeth to err." In short, the college 
course of a young man who is pursuing an educa- 
tion, may be said to be, in a sense which belongs 
to no other period of equal extent — the "turning 
point" of his life. Here, we may almost say, every 
thing for his weal or woe will be determined. No 
one can predict what any young man is to be till 
he is tried. This may be called — more than any 
other which either precedes or follows it — the try- 
ing period, on which more depends than any hu- 
man arithmetic can calculate. 

Can you wonder, then, my dear sons, that your 
father, aware of this, and recollecting it with the 
deepest interest, is anxious for your welfare? Can 
you wonder that he carries your situation every day 
before the throne of grace, and implores for you the 
protection and guidance of your father's God? Re- 
member that, in every period of life, you need light 
and strength from on high, to enable you to resist 
temptation, and to improve the advantages under 
which you are placed. But you need this grace 
peculiarly now. Pray for it without ceasing. Be 



20 INTRODUCTION. 

upon your guard against all the dangers of which 
I am about to warn you. Remember that you are 
now in a situation in which one false step may ruin 
you; in which yielding to the influence of one pro- 
fligate companion may plunge you into embarrass- 
ments and difficulties from which you may never 
be able to extricate yourselves. " Watch and pray 
that you enter not into temptation." " Wherewith 
shall a young man cleanse his way? By. taking 
heed thereto according to God's word." No one is 
so likely to escape the snares with which he is sur- 
rounded, as he who is impressed with a deep sense 
of his own weakness, and is continually seeking 
help from above. 

Remember the purpose for which you have been 
placed in the institution to which you belong; to 
learn, not to teach; to obey, not to govern. Re- 
member, too, that, without your own habitual and 
faithful efforts, your position in a college will be 
altogether unavailing. Many parents, and, I fear, 
some youth, are apt to imagine that there is some- 
thing in such an institution, which, as a matter of 
course, will fill the minds of pupils with knowledge, 
and lead to rich improvement. They seem to think 
that they are like open vessels sent to be filled, and 
that instruction may be poured into them without 
any agency, or even concurrence of their own. I 
trust this mistake never found a place in your minds; 
and that if it ever has in any measure, the little 



INTRODUCTION. 21 

experience you have gained has completely ba- 
nished it. 

Your great object is to ascend the hill of litera- 
ture and science. Now in gaining this ascent, you 
cannot be carried or borne np on the shoulders of 
others. You must climb it yourselves. You must 
have guides in your arduous enterprise; and these 
guides may give you many directions, and furnish 
you with many articles of apparatus which will 
facilitate your ascent. But, after all, the exertion by 
which you climb must be your own act. The mind 
can be strengthened only by appropriate aliment, 
and habitual exercise. Gaining ideas and princi- 
ples; depositing them in the mind; digesting them, 
and making them our own; and thus strengthening, 
enlarging, and furnishing the intellectual powers, — 
all require incessant application and labour on our 
part. It was mental exercise and toil which, under 
God, enabled Bacon and Newton and Milton so 
much to rise above the mass of their fellow men. 
If they had made no personal efforts; but had de- 
pended on being borne up, and borne along by the 
strength of others, or by the native force of their 
own powers— they would never have reached the 
elevation which they gained. You are placed in 
circumstances highly favourable to your gaining 
knowledge, and in every way improving your 
minds; but unless you will consent to exert your- 
selves, and to labour diligently in this pursuit, you 



22 INTRODUCTION. 

will gain but little. In silver and gold a man may 
be made rich — eminently rich, by the labour or the 
munificence of others; but in intellectual furniture 
and strength, he can no more be enriched by the 
toil of others, than his daily food can be digested 
and made to nourish him by the mastication and 
the stomachs of those around him. 

In the gregarious mode of life in which you are 
now placed, you will, no doubt, find both advan- 
tage and hindrance. In the colleges situated in our 
large cities, you know, the students do not usually 
lodge in public edifices, or board together in public 
refectories. They only come together daily at their 
recitations, and, when these are closed, return to 
their respective places of lodging. This was the 
case in the University of Pennsylvania, in which I 
was educated. When large numbers of students 
are placed in this situation with respect to each 
other, their harmonious action, and especially their 
efficient co-operation, are neither so constant nor so 
easy, as when they all board and lodge together in 
adjoining public edifices. In this latter plan there 
are some very material advantages. But there are 
some countervailing considerations. When students 
live apart, there may be much profligacy and mis- 
chief going on; but it is less concentrated and less 
seen. When they all live together, their move- 
ments are more prominent and noticeable; combi- 
nation is more easy; they are liable to more excite- 



INTRODUCTION. 23 

ment; and when excitement does spring up, it is apt 
to be more heated and violent. It is said, that, in 
the University of Merdeen, in Scotland, where 
there are two colleges, Marischal and King's, the 
students belonging to the one all lodge and board 
together; while the students of the other are dis- 
tributed in different boarding houses through the 
city. In the former, it is alleged, there is a more fre- 
quent occurrence of obtrusive noise and disorder; 
in the latter more unbridled vice and profligacy 
which never meet the public eye. 

While I prefer, on the whole, having students 
immured together; yet I wish you to be aware that 
there are some perils connected with this system. 
You will find more vigilance and caution called for 
in regard to your associations; and more need of 
prudence to avoid being implicated in those excite- 
ments and combinations which are so apt to spring 
up where large numbers of human beings herd to- 
gether. Recollect this. Be ever on the watch to 
guard against the evils, and to avail yourselves of 
the advantages, which attend your position: — and 
may He who has all hearts and all events in his 
hands, grant you his blessing, and his unceasing 
guidance! 

If I could admit the thought, my dear sons, that 
you resembled those students who are to be found 
in every college that I have ever seen, and some of 
whom, it is to be feared, belong to your own classes, 



24 INTRODUCTION. 

I should not have the heart to write another sen- 
tence. I mean young men who have no real love 
of knowledge; no ambition to be distinguished for 
either wisdom or virtue; who have no regard for 
the peace and order of society; no respect or grati- 
tude for their instructors; and who cannot be excited 
to either diligence or decency by even a regard to 
the feelings of their parents: who study as little as 
college discipline will allow, and who have no idea 
of enjoying life, or of manifesting manliness, but in 
idleness, dissipation, and those miserable disorders 
which indicate unprincipled vulgarity more than 
any thing else. For such youth it is in vain to write 
or to reason. Their course cannot fail, without a 
miracle, to be disgraceful to themselves, and ago- 
nizing to those who love them. If I thought that 
you in any degree partook of this spirit, I should 
here lay down my pen in despair. But, indulging 
the hope that you love knowledge; that you cherish 
a spirit of generous ambition to be useful in your 
day, and to gratify your parents; I will go on and 
pour out the fulness of a heart glowing with regard 
to your welfare. May God enable me to write, 
and you to read, in such a manner as may result in 
our mutual joy! 



25 



LETTER II. 
OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 



4< Sanctio justa, jubens honesta, et prohibens contraria." 

Bracton de Legibus Anglia. 



" Sine lege, est sine ratione, modo, ordine." 

My Dear Sons, 



In every college there is a system of laws, which 
all who enter it are, of course, bound to obey. And 
they are under this obligation anterior to any for- 
mal engagement to that purpose. Every ingenuous 
and honourable mind will' perceive that he who 
offers himself as an inmate of any family or society, 
the rules of which are established and publicly 
known, must be understood as agreeing to those 
rules, and as coming under a virtual stipulation to 
obey them. He who comes in without intending 
to do this, and without actually doing it, will be 
considered by every honest man, not merely as a 
pest and a nuisance, but as forfeiting all title to the 
character of probity and honour. He who pleads, 
then, that he is under no obligation to conform to 
the known laws of a college of which he is a mem- 
3 



26 OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 

ber, because he has not formally promised to do so, 
might just as well say, that he is at liberty, consist- 
ently with moral honesty, to violate the laws of the 
state, because he has never come under a public 
and formal engagement to obey them; which not 
one citizen in a thousand has ever done. How 
would such a plea be regarded by a judge or jury 
in a case of theft, fraud or perjury? We need not 
wait for an answer. He who should make such a 
plea, would, undoubtedly, be considered as a felon 
in spirit, if not proved to be one in act, and be 
driven from all decent society. I should certainly 
not be willing to entrust my purse with uncounted 
money in the hands of a student who should seri- 
ously advance such an apology for violating a col- 
lege law. 

Some years since, in the college to which it is 
your privilege to belong, every student, on his ad- 
mission, was required formally to declare, that he 
had read and understood the laws of the institution; 
and that he " solemnly pledged his truth and honour 
to obey them." And yet, even then, there were stu- 
dents who laid high claims to the character of both 
truth and honour, who deliberately violated some 
of the most important of those laws, and even 
plumed themselves on the dexterity and success 
with which the violation was accomplished. And 
what do you think their plea then was? why, that 
their engagement could not be called a voluntary 



OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 27 

one; that they had been placed in the college by 
the authority of their parents; that the promise to 
obey the laws was an indispensable formality, sub- 
mission to which they could not avoid, without 
refusing to enter the institution, and this considera- 
tion, according to their extraordinary logic, liberated 
them from every bond of obedience! With just as 
much propriety might a witness, summoned to give 
testimony in a court of justice, allege that, inasmuch 
as the solemnity of taking an oath, prior to giving 
his testimony, was a formality forced upon him by 
the law of the land, without which he could ndt be 
permitted to appear as a witness, he was not bound 
to speak the truth. Every honest man would in- 
stinctively despise a youth who was capable of 
advancing such a plea. Such an one might hold 
his head high, and make the most lofty pretensions 
to honourable principles and conduct; but, in the 
estimation of all correct minds, he would be re- 
garded as, virtually if not formally, a perjured vil- 
lain. The very same plea might a judge, or a 
magistrate of any grade, make with regard to his 
oath of office. It is a sine qua non to his introduc- 
tion to office. In this sense, the requisition may be 
called a compulsory one. He cannot perform a 
single official duty, or enjoy a single official privi- 
lege or emolument,, without it. But what would 
you think of such an officer, if, after having taken 
the prescribed oath, he were to allege, that it was 



28 OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 

not binding, because he was obliged either to take 
it, or lose his office; and to imagine that he might 
break it without crime or dishonour? You would, 
doubtless, consider him as a scoundrel, quite as 
worthy of a place in the penitentiary as many of 
those whom his sentences had sent thither. 

But I will not dwell longer on these degrading 
subterfuges, to which none but minds utterly desti- 
tute of all sound and honourable principle would 
ever think of resorting. 

I trust, my dear sons, you will equally despise 
and abhor every plea, nay every thought, of this 
kind; and that you will avoid the society of every 
fellow student who is capable of avowing such a 
compound of meanness and profligacy. Every real 
gentleman who enters even a public hotel, will 
strictly conform to the rules of the establishment, 
which he finds suspended on the wall, or imme- 
diately quit the house. There is no medium in the 
view of 'a correct mind. I would infinitely rather 
find a son of mine honestly confessing his delin- 
quency in violating a college law, and incurring 
the whole weight of the penalty, than disgracing 
himself by pleas which evince radical obliquity of 
moral principle. A youth of substantially pure 
moral sentiments and habits may be betrayed into 
an inadvertent violation of a statute under which 
he has voluntarily placed himself; but the refined 
Jesuitism, which would explain away a palpable 



OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 29 

obligation, and justify a virtual perjury, is ripe for 
almost every crime to which an inducement is pre- 
sented. 

But, independently of all engagements, either 
express or implied, to obey the laws under which 
you are placed, as members of a college, I would 
suggest some considerations in favour of obedience 
to them, which I am sure you will think weighty, 
unless your minds are more deplorably perverted 
by a factitious system of morals, than my affection 
for you will allow me to suppose. When you are 
tempted to violate the smallest law of the institu- 
tion, let the following reflections occur to your 
minds, and exert that influence which I am sure 
they will on every enlightened and pure conscience. 

1. By whom were these laws made? Not by 
capricious or unreasonable tyrants. Not by a body 
of austere, gloomy men, who had forgotten the sea- 
son of their own youth, and were desirous of 
abridging your comforts, and of imposing upon you 
an unnecessary and painful yoke. Not at all. But 
by the trustees of the institution; by a body of en- 
lightened, reasonable, conscientious men, who have 
been college students themselves; and, of course, 
know the feelings, the temptations, and the dangers 
of students: — by affectionate and faithful parents 
who feel tenderly for the welfare and happiness of 
youth; and would not lay upon a young man a 
single restraint which they did not know would be 
3* 



30 OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 

for his good: — by men of age, and culture, and expe- 
rience, who have not only been young themselves, 
but who have seen for years the evils, nay the 
almost certain ruin, to which students are exposed 
by being left to their own inclinations: — by men 
whose feelings are predominantly kind and benevo- 
lent, and who would never vote for the enactment 
of any law, which had not been found by experi- 
ence to be indispensable: — by men who have delibe- 
rately taken an oath to promote the best interests 
of the institution, and of the youth committed to 
their care. Surely laws formed by such men; deli- 
berately reviewed and persisted in from year to 
year; and carefully modified as circumstances may 
require; — ought to be regarded with deep respect, 
and to bind the heart, as well as the conscience, of 
every ingenuous student. The young man who, 
when such laws are in question, can treat them 
with contempt, or even with neglect, has, indeed, 
little reason to plume himself upon either the 
soundness of his understanding, or the rectitude of 
his moral feelings. 

2. Reflect whether you have any just reason 
to find fault with any one of these laws. I do 
not ask, whether many disorderly and unprincipled 
students would not wish some of them to be re- 
pealed or altered. But is there one of them which 
will not stand the test of serious and impartial 
examination? Is there one of them unreasonable, 



OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 31 

harsh, or adapted to injure either those who are 
found faithfully obeying it, or any others? Is there 
one concerning which you can lay your hands on 
your hearts, and say that it would be for the bene- 
fit of the college and of the students that it should 
be repealed? I am verily persuaded that the most 
reckless and licentious member of your college or of 
any college — if he would go over the whole code of 
its laws in detail, and suffer his sober moral sense 
deliberately to sit in judgment upon each one, could 
not find one which he would be willing to say ought 
to be expunged. Let him single out from all the 
prohibited offences against the order of the college, 
that one which he should judge to involve the least 
degree of moral turpitude, and then ask himself 
what would be the consequence if that offence were 
habitually committed by every student in the 
house? This is the real test to which every matter 
of the kind in question ought to be brought. He 
who on any occasion, or in regard to any subject, 
allows himself to do a thing, or to act upon a prin- 
ciple, which if it were made the principle of uni- 
versal action would be productive of much mis- 
chief, must be considered by all sober thinkers as 
an offender against the peace and order of society. 
Will this reasoning be deemed too refined, or too 
much removed from the feelings of common life, to 
be recognised as practically important by an intel- 
ligent young man, who is beginning to feel his 



32 OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 

obligations as a patriot and a social being, if not as 
a Christian? I would fain hope not. There must 
be something radically rotten in the moral prin- 
ciples of that youth who refuses to consider 
whether the course he is pursuing is injurious or 
not to the institution with which he is connected, 
or to the best interests of society at large; or who 
deliberately resolves, at the expense of such injury, 
to indulge his criminal passions. Surely he need 
not be told, that this is the essential character of 
those wretched invaders of the peace of society, 
whom public justice pronounces unfit to go at 
large, or even to live. 

3. Reflect further, how much it is your own in- 
terest to obey every jot and tittle of the laws under 
ivhich you are placed. Need I say, that the more 
scrupulous and faithful your obedience to all the 
rules of the institution, the less of your time will be 
withdrawn from your studies and wasted in plot- 
ting mischief; in adopting mean and lying contri- 
vances to escape detection; and in that uneasiness 
and dissipation of thought to which scenes of dis- 
order always lead? Many a deluded youth has 
forfeited his scholarship, and lost his standing in his 
.ass, by squandering those hours in plans of inge- 
nious disobedience which he would otherwise have 
devoted to his studies. Remember, too, that the 
more exemplary your obedience to all the laws of 
the college, the more you will gain the esteem and 



OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 33 

confidence of your instructors, and the more favour- 
able your prospect of obtaining that grade of ho- 
nour in your class to which your talents and 
acquirements may entitle you. For it must not be 
forgotten that in every well regulated and faith- 
fully conducted college, the moral conduct of every 
student, and his obedience to the laws, are neces- 
sarily taken into the account in estimating his title 
to the honours dispensed to his class. Accordingly, 
I have known students of the finest talents, and of 
elevated attainments, to close their collegial career 
in the second if not the third grade of literary rank, 
merely because they had been characteristically re- 
gardless of some of the laws of the institution with 
which they were connected; and, though often re- 
proved for their delinquency, failed to profit by the 
admonitions of their teachers. Nor did any one, 
except, perhaps, some partial and blinded parents, 
disapprove of the award. In fact, it could not have 
been ordered otherwise, without gross injustice to 
the individuals concerned, and no less injustice to 
the institution whose laws they had trampled under 
feet. Let it also be borne in mind that he who is 
punctual in obeying every prescribed law, is more 
easy and comfortable in his own mind; approaches 
his teachers and his fellow-students with more fear- 
less confidence; and is affected with none of that 
torturing anxiety which must ever, in a greater or 
less degree, invade the peace of him who is con- 



34 OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 

scious of being chargeable with habitual violations 
of the laws which he is bound to obey. How sweet 
and enviable must have been the feelings of a dis- 
tinguished young gentleman from the South, of fine 
talents and scholarship, and of a wealthy family, 
whom I once knew, who after he had been a mem- 
ber of the college in this place for several years, 
was able to say, " I am not conscious of having vio- 
lated the smallest law of the institution since I have 
been connected with it." It is hardly necessary 
to say, that his career was a pleasant and honour- 
able one, and that he left the college enjoying the 
respect and love of all who knew him. 

4. Consider, further, how much credit you will 
reflect on your Alma Mater by a punctual and 
exemplary conformity to her regulations. Tra- 
vellers, in passing through Princeton, have been, 
more than once, prejudiced against our college, by 
happening to see several students hanging about 
the tavern doors; swaggering with an air of vulgar 
and insolent importance; smoking, and, perhaps, 
using profane language. Now, though I conscien- 
tiously believe that scenes of this kind are not so 
frequently exhibited in your college as in some 
others; yet whenever exhibited, they will not fail 
to prejudice some individuals who may happen to 
witness them. The travellers to whom I refer, — 
not pious, but worldly-minded and gay, yet polished 
and reflecting, have, in some instances, to my cer- 



OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 35 

tain knowledge, most unjustly, formed conclusions 
against the college from this unfavourable specimen 
of its students; and have resolved never to send a 
son to it, lest he should be brought up in the midst 
of vulgarity and profaneness, 

Impressions of this kind, though most unjust, have 
been more than once made by the appearance of a 
single unfortunate individual, and a general cha- 
racter of the college and of its inmates thence derived 
of a very unfavourable kind. I need not say, that 
a candid and generous minded young man would 
be deeply pained at the thought of inflicting such a 
wound on the reputation of his literary mother; and 
that he would consider any one thus capable of 
sporting with the character of an individual, and 
much more of an important public institution, as 
deeply guilty. 

5. Reflect, once more, on the position in which 
your teachers are placed with regard to the exe- 
cution of the laws. Perhaps no feeling is more 
apt to spring up in the minds of college students, 
than that of hostility to their instructors. They are 
prone to consider the Faculty, as, of course, an 
adverse body, needlessly strict, and even tyrannical, 
and leagued against their pleasures. From this 
feeling the transition is easy to the habit of regard- 
ing the faculty, in enforcing the laws, as a body 
which it is no sin to oppose, and over which it is 
rather a meritorious act to gain a triumph. Can it 



36 OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 

be necessary to employ reasoning to show that such 
feelings and sentiments are highly absurd; and that 
those who indulge them take the most preposterous 
ground? Are not the members of college faculties 
men of like passions with others? Is it reasonable 
to accuse them of gratuitous and wanton oppres- 
sion? Can they be supposed to have an interest in 
making the college to which they belong unpopular 
with either parents or young men, and, of course, 
driving students away from it? On the contrary, 
is it not manifestly the interest of every one, from 
the president down to the youngest tutor, to teach 
and govern in such a manner as to be acceptable to 
all, and to draw as many students as possible to 
the institution with which he is connected? True, 
indeed, they have all solemnly sworn faithfully to 
execute the laws of the institutions in which they 
are respectively placed as teachers; and if they are 
wise and honest men, they are fully persuaded, that 
carrying all the laws into execution, is the best 
method for securing the welfare and happiness of 
the pupils themselves, as well as the best interest 
of all concerned. Under these engagements and 
convictions can they be blamed for acting accord- 
ing to their conscientious impressions of duty? 
Would you not secretly despise them if they acted 
otherwise? How unreasonable, then, the prejudice 
against them for discharging a duty which all ac- 
knowledge to be solemnly required at their hands! 



OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 37 

The truth is, instead of there being any temptation 
impelling the members of any faculty to be over- 
rigorous or oppressive in the execution of college 
laws, the temptation is, in almost all cases, the other 
way. And I am compelled to say, that, after going 
through a college course myself, more than fifty 
years ago; and after having been an attentive ob- 
server of the character, course of instruction and 
discipline of different colleges for more than forty 
years; — I say, after all this opportunity for observa- 
tion, I am constrained to assert, that I have seldom 
known any college faculty to err on the side of ex- 
cessive rigour in the execution of the code of laws 
with which they were entrusted; but that the mis- 
take has, almost always, been on the side of undue 
laxity rather than the reverse. Discipline has com- 
monly been either too tardy in its pace, or marked 
with too much lenity in its character. Here has 
been the fruitful source of a large portion of the 
evils which beset bands of college students. If dis- 
cipline were conducted with more strictness than it 
is, rather than less; if learners in our public institu- 
tions were more accustomed to " bear the yoke in 
their youth," it were better for them, and better for 
the institutions to which they belong. 

I hope, my dear sons, it is not necessary for me 

to say, that my object, in all that has been said, is 

not to make you either mopes or slaves. On the 

contrary, I am persuaded that the more perfectly 

4 



38 OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 

you imbibe the spirit, and form the habits which I 
have recommended, the more happy; the more 
truly free and independent; the more manly and 
gentlemanly in the best sense of those words; the 
more highly respectable you will ever appear, in 
your own eyes, and in the eyes of all around you. 
My acquaintance with college students has been 
large, and somewhat intimate; and my recollection 
enables me unequivocally to affirm, that the most 
accomplished scholars, the most enlarged and in- 
dependent thinkers, the most high-minded and 
honourable individuals of the whole number that 
I have ever known, were precisely those whose 
obedience to the laws was most perfect; who knew 
the value of order in conduct as well as in study; 
who invariably treated their instructors with re- 
spect, and enjoyed their entire confidence; who never 
met them but with an erect and assured counte- 
nance; and whose whole character was regarded 
by all their associates as elevated and honourable. 
Such has been my invariable experience. To ima- 
gine that the contrary is apt to be the case, is a 
miserable delusion. So fixed is my persuasion of 
the truth of this statement, that whenever I hear 
that a young man has fallen under the frowns and 
the discipline of his instructors, I take for granted, 
without a moment's hesitation, that he is a poor 
scholar, and that, however he may boast of his 



OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. SV 

" honour," or his "independence," he has very little 
of either to spare. 

Do you ask me what portions or classes of the 
laws, I would have you studiously to obey? I 
answer, the whole — every "jot and tittle," from 
the most deeply vital to the most trivial and minute. 
You as really break the laws of the institution with 
which you are connected, and as really forfeit that 
" truth and honour" which you have virtually, if not 
formally, pledged — by cutting with your penknife 
the fences and doors, and window casements and 
seats of the college, as by more bold and dangerous 
acts of disorder. Only suppose every one to in- 
dulge in such a propensity, and to what a disgusting 
and miserable state would everything in and about 
the college edifices be speedily reduced! But it is 
my wish, with peculiar emphasis, to guard you 
against all participation in those infractions of law 
which lead to public disturbance, and especially 
which endanger health or life. When I have 
heard of students who claimed to be young " gen- 
tlemen of honour," exploding gunpowder in the 
college-rooms, to the destruction of property, and 
at the most imminent risk of personal, and perhaps 
fatal, injury of some fellow student or teacher, I 
have found it difficult to avoid the impression, not 
merely that the perpetrator was an unprincipled 
and dishonoured youth; but that he was actuated 
by those reckless and vile passions which distin- 



40 OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 

guish the murderer; that he is wholly unfit to 
occupy a place in decent society; and that the state 
prison is his proper abode. 

Say not that this language is too severe. It is 
the language " of truth and soberness." It is true, 
I should lament such an outrage, if not followed 
by fatal effects, less — much less than where a life 
had been lost. But, as to the quo animo, it does 
really appear to me, that he who can deliberately 
lend himself to such an outrage as has been referred 
to, deserves little if any less abhorrence than many 
a midnight assassin. 

I have only to add, that, where this species of 
outrage is so planned and conducted (as has more 
than once occurred in different colleges) as to in- 
vade the peace of a private family, and to fill with 
terror and with anguish, and expose to imminent 
danger, delicate females, there is a degree of bru- 
tality added to crime, of which it is not easy to 
speak in terms expressive of adequate abhorrence. 

There appear to be strange misapprehensions of 
moral principle in the minds of many of the mem- 
bers of our literary institutions. 1 have known 
young men who would have shrunk with instinc- 
tive abhorrence from stealing private property; who 
would have thought themselves permanently and 
deeply dishonoured, by injuring the dwelling, or 
invading the peace of a private family; who could, 
at the same time, without any feeling of self- 



OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 41 

reproach or shame, take out and bear off, without 
permission, a book from a public library, and ne- 
glect to return it; who could break or purloin a rare 
and valuable piece of philosophical apparatus; de- 
face or destroy the property of the college to which 
they were so much indebted, in a manner which if 
it were directed against their own property, they 
would feel justified in prosecuting the invader to 
the penitentiary; and, in short, act as if, by becom- 
ing a pupil in a public institution, they became, in 
a sort, joint partners in all the property of the insti- 
tution, and entitled to treat it as in a measure their 
own, or with more reckless waste than they would, 
their own. A more preposterous notion cannot be 
entertained by any mind. Recollect, I beseech you, 
that no part of the property of the college is yours. 
The whole of it is vested in a corporation — the 
board of trustees — for a great public benefit. They 
permit you and your fellow students to enter, and 
enjoy the privileges of the institution. To prepare 
it for your beneficial use, they have toiled and 
laboured much, and gone to great expense, and are 
daily incurring large expenditures. So far from 
their being debtors to you, you are deep debtors to 
them; and, therefore, when you injure or destroy 
their property, you add the gross sin of robbery to 
criminal ingratitude. You are guilty of a public 
wrong, involving, in some respects, a deeper moral 
turpitude than that which is of a private nature. 



42 OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 

For my part, when I see a young man in college 
disorderly in his habits; disobedient to law; labour- 
ing to deceive, and vex, and outwit his instructors, 
and injure the property of the institution, I have 
scarcely ever the least hope that he will make a 
decent or a useful man. I have carefully watched 
hundreds of this character, and have rarely found 
my augury of their fate falsified. Such young men 
have generally turned out disreputable members of 
society — drunkards, gamblers, swindlers, duellists; 
and have been either in mercy to society cut off in 
their course, and consigned to an early grave; or 
spared only to be a curse to the community, and a 
disgrace and an anguish to all who took an interest 
in their welfare. 

It cannot be doubted, that, on this subject, pa- 
rents are oftentimes quite as much, if not more to 
blame than their sons, who are chargeable with vio- 
lating college laws. Both parents and children, in 
many cases, seem to labour under the mistake, that 
students, and the members of the college faculty, by 
whom they are instructed and governed, are to be 
considered as standing upon an equal footing, and 
that their intercourse ought to be that of independ- 
ent gentlemen with each other. To illustrate this 
fact, I would refer you to a case which not long 
since occurred— not, I am happy to say, in the Col- 
lege of New Jersey, but in one of the distant col- 
leges in our land. Three young men were sent to 



OBEDIENCE TO THE LAWS. 43 

the institution in question, by their respective pa- 
rents. In a short time after one of them had reached 
the college, he violated one of the laws, and was 
pointedly reproved by a professor. He immediately 
wrote to his father that the professor had insulted 
him. The father promptly answered thus:—" My 
son, go and purchase for yourself the largest cane 
in the town, and break it over the professor's head." 
The other two wrote to their father that after hav- 
ing tried the college for a few weeks, they were not 
pleased with it, and, without any permission, had 
removed to another college, and had taken lodgings 
in the best hotel in the place! Of such young men 
no reasonable person would ever expect to hear 
any good. And it is certainly quite reasonable to 
add, that when such young men go to destruction, 
and disgrace their families, by far the largest 
amount of blame lies at the door of their parents. 



44 



LETTER III 



MANNERS. 



Non contemnenda, tanquam parva, sine qui bus magna constare 
non possint. Jerome. 

My Dear Sons, 

It is remarked, by a good writer, that " the an- 
cients began the education of their children by 
forming their hearts and manners. They taught 
them the duty of men, and of citizens. We teach 
them the languages of the ancients, and leave their 
morals and manners to shift for themselves." 
Without pausing to examine either the justice, or 
the proper extent of this statement, it cannot be 
doubted that there is a measure of truth in it. It 
cannot be doubted that the majority of the youth 
of the present day, who have been trained in 
literature and science, manifest less modesty, less 
of the becoming spirit of subordination, less re- 
spect for age, less of gentle, docile, filial deference 
for superiors, than were common in the days of 
our fathers. I trust that, in saying this, I shall 
not be set down as a prejudiced "laudator tem- 
poris acti;" as unreasonably yielding to the par- 



MANNERS. 45 

tiality of an old man for the days and habits of 
his youth. Fifty or sixty years ago, unless I am 
greatly deceived, the intercourse between the pro- 
fessors and tutors of our colleges and their pupils 
was considerably different from what it now is. 
There is less of sovereign, unquestioned, parental 
authority on the part of the former; and much less 
of that implicit obedience on the part of the latter, 
and of those outward testimonials of respect and 
reverence which were then deemed indispensable. 
In my early days, in several of the most respectable 
and popular colleges in our country, no student ever 
entered the public edifice in which he either lodged 
or recited without taking off his hat: nor did he 
ever allow himself to come within a number of feet 
of any officer of the college, either within doors or 
in the open air, without uncovering his head. The 
approach of such an officer would, then, instantly 
command silence and perfect decorum. Is it so 
now? and is the alteration for the better or the 
worse? If there were in the old habits of some of 
our colleges an air of formal servility, is there not, 
at present, too often an air of disrespect and in- 
solent boorishness? Surely this ought not to be 
so. When our country is growing every day in 
wealth, in literature, and certainly in some spe- 
cies of refinement, our youth ought to be growing 
in all that is calculated to distinguish and adorn in- 
tellectual and moral culture, and to exhibit them as 



46 MANNERS. 

worthy of the advantages under which they are 
placed. 

It appears to me that many young men in col- 
lege labour under an entire mistake in regard to the 
motives which ought to influence them in regulat- 
ing their manners. They seem to think that, un- 
less they have a sincere personal respect for the 
individuals or bodies with whom they are called 
to have intercourse, they may, without any dis- 
credit to themselves, indulge in behaviour which, 
in other circumstances, would be liable to the 
charge of rudeness. But a little reflection cannot 
fail of convincing any sober mind that this is a 
great error. For, in the first place, we are bound, 
upon every principle, to treat with deference and 
respect those who are set over us in authority, 
whatever may be our estimate of their personal 
character. Their office is worthy of respect, even 
if their persons be not. But, independently of 
this consideration, which, to every thinking mind, 
is conclusive, we are, in the second place, bound 
thus to conduct ourselves, upon the principle of 
self-respect. When any one treats with rudeness 
those whom he is bound officially to obey, he may 
flatter himself that he is displaying his spirit, and 
manifesting elevation of character; but, instead of 
this, he is only displaying his own vulgarity and 
ignorance of the world, and manifesting that he is 
no gentleman, whatever claim to that title he may 



MANNERS. 47 

imagine himself to possess. One of the most per- 
fect models of good-breeding that I ever saw in my 
life, was accustomed to overcome the incivility of 
the rude by the most entire respectfulness of man- 
ner on his part. I have known him to disarm 
even brutality itself by returning the strictest polite- 
ness to the most ruffian insolence. 

Let me earnestly entreat you, then, to be careful — 
constantly and vigilantly careful of your manners to 
all, but especially to three classes oe persons. 

I. To all the members of the faculty of the 
college. These gentlemen are officially set over 
you; and, by entering the college, you have volun- 
tarily come under a virtual engagement to submit 
to their authority, and to honour their persons. 
The supposition is, that they are all well qualified 
for their office, and are personally deserving of your 
highest respect. But whether this be so or not, 
there is but one course for you — and that is, to con- 
form to the spirit of the laws, and ever to treat 
them as if they were perfectly worthy of veneration 
as well as obedience. He who is disrespectful to 
his teachers, dishonours himself more than them. 
If, therefore, I had no regard to anything but your 
own reputation, I would say, pay them unceasing 
and vigilant respect. Treat them all — from the 
president down to the youngest tutor — with scru- 
pulous decorum and politeness. Never accost them, 
or pass them, whether in the public edifice, in 



48 MANNERS. 

the campus, or in the street, without lifting, or, at 
least, touching the hat. Never speak to them but 
with the tone and manner appropriate to one who 
is addressing a superior. This testimonial of re- 
spect is every where dictated by the most obvious 
sense of propriety; and is really as much due to 
yourselves, as claiming to be well-bred young gen- 
tlemen, as it is to the official personage to whom it 
is directed. Indeed I never allow myself to enter 
an inhabited house, whatever may be the rank or 
the social position of its inmates, without taking off 
my hat. I should certainly expect them to do so 
in my own house, and I would not be behind them 
in politeness. 

I have often been amazed to see young men who 
laid claim to the title of gentlemen, enter rooms in 
which the president or some other officer of col- 
lege was seated or standing, and keep on their hats 
until they had passed, perhaps, immediately by the 
chair of such officer, over the whole length of the 
apartment to a seat at its remote end, and there slow- 
ly remove them, sometimes after being seated them- 
selves, and with an air as if they scarcely thought 
it worth while to take them off even then. I 
never see this without confidently taking for grant- 
ed that young men who can so conduct themselves, 
are grossly ignorant of the world, and, whatever 
else may have belonged to their history, have had 
a very vulgar breeding. They dishonour themselves 






MANNERS. 49 

far more than they dishonour the objects of this 
rudeness. 

I have been sometimes little less disgusted to see 
young men, the children of respectable parents, and 
who ought to have been taught better, rising, when 
questioned at a recitation, or an examination, and 
answering with an air and manner becoming those 
who felt themselves superior to their examiners, 
and who wished to testify how little respect they 
felt for them. Such things evince as much the lack 
of good breeding as of good sense; and instead of 
manifesting that manliness, independence, and ele- 
vation of character which are intended to be dis- 
played, are rather disgusting testimonies of igno- 
rance and boyish self-consequence. 

Another practice which I have observed with 
pain among students of college, in their recitation 
rooms, and in other similar situations, in the pre- 
sence of their instructors, is their disrespectful mode 
of sitting. I mean sitting with their feet lifted up, 
on the top of an opposite bench or chair, and 
stretched out in the magisterial manner of a master 
among his menials, or of a boon companion loung- 
ing among his equals. No truly well bred person 
ever allows himself to sit in this manner in the 
presence of his superiors, or even of his equals, 
unless they are his daily and hourly associates. 
Would not any young man who had enjoyed a 
training above the grossly vulgar be shocked to see 
5 



50 MANNERS. 

an attitude of this kind assumed by any one in a 
decent circle in a parlour? Surely in the presence 
of his official superiors he ought to be quite as par- 
ticular. I lay claim to no special delicacy or refine- 
ment in my early training; but truth requires me to 
say, that, such as it was, if I had been ever seen to 
sit in the presence of my parents, or of any decent 
company, as I have often seen members of college 
sitting in the presence of their instructors, I should 
have met with a prompt and severe rebuke. 

Imagine to yourselves the deportment which you 
ought ever to exhibit toward beloved and venerated 
parents, in yielding prompt obedience to all their 
commands, and showing by every word, and look, 
and tone, and gesture, that you wished to treat them 
with perfect respect; picture to yourselves this de- 
portment, and you have the model of that which I 
earnestly desire my sons ever to display toward 
their official instructors. In giving this counsel, as 
I remarked in a preceding letter, you cannot sus- 
pect me of a desire to cultivate in my children a 
spirit of servility; on the contrary, my earnest de- 
sire is that they should ever cultivate those manly 
and elevated sentiments which evince true magna- 
nimity of spirit, and prepare for the most honourable 
course of action. And, truly, you were never more 
mistaken if you suppose that the manifestation of 
perfect reverence and docility toward your instruct- 
ors indicates any other than a spirit of real dignity 



MANNERS. 51 

and independence. Here the path of perfect obedi- 
ence is the only path to perfect freedom and honour. 

It is, perhaps, as proper to notice under this head 
as anywhere else a piece of ill manners which I 
have seen displayed in a certain collegiate institu- 
tion to my great disgust and annoyance. I mean 
the exhibition of a cigar in the mouth of a student 
in a public procession, and he puffing his smoke in 
the face of all who approached or passed him. 
There is such a concentration of vulgarity and offen- 
siveness in this thing that I know not how to speak 
of it in terms of adequate reprobation. Few prac- 
tices are more frequently connected with rustic and 
disagreeable manners, and offensive habits of va- 
rious kinds, than the use of tobacco in any way. 
But to see a student sporting a cigar in a college 
procession, argues such a total want of decorum and 
refinement as ought never to be seen in civilized 
society. Indeed such an exhibition is such an out- 
rage on good manners, that I should be ashamed 
to speak of it, had I not with my own eyes seen 
it — not in a public street, or campus merely, but in 
one of the entries of a college edifice, and that on 
an occasion on which I was not a little mortified 
that so many strangers should have an opportunity 
of seeing a fact so disreputable to the state of man- 
ners in a literary institution. 

Of the various habits commonly connected with 
the free use of tobacco one ought not to pass unno- 



52 MANNERS. 

ticed here, when speaking of good manners. I refer 
particularly to the vulgar and disgusting practice of 
spitting profusely on the floors around the offender, 
and running the risk of bespattering every indivi- 
dual in his neighbourhood. I have known young 
men in the apartments of a college, when I was sit- 
ting beside them, smell so strongly of tobacco smoke 
as to be scarcely endurable, and at the same time 
squirting their tobacco juice around them in such 
quantities, and with so little delicacy, that I had no 
alternative but either to change my seat, or to have 
my stomach turned. I preferred the former. But 
how shameful for any one who calls himself a gen- 
tleman to subject those who approach him to such 
a severe tax! 

The truth is, when I see a student parading the 
streets with a cigar in his mouth, and manifesting 
a devoted attachment to the use of tobacco, I am 
pretty much in the habit of giving up all hope of 
his future respectability and honour. I consider him 
as the slave of an indulgence which I have seen 
betray so many into the most degrading intemper- 
ance, and so many others into incurable ill health, 
that I cannot help regarding the devotee to this 
practice as eminently in danger of being lost to all 
that is honourable and good. But more of this 
hereafter. 

2. Be attentive to your manners in all your in- 
tercourse with your fellow students. No one can 



MANNERS. 53 

depend on his deportment being such as it ought to 
be on special occasions, when he meets his supe- 
riors, unless he is careful to form correct habits in 
this respect, in his intercourse with all. Hence 
wise counsellors tell us, that if we desire to succeed 
in making healthful and graceful postures natural 
to us, we must take care to maintain them in our 
private apartments, and in our habitual and every- 
day attitudes. Not only on this account, but also 
for the purpose of promoting pleasant and profita- 
ble intercourse with your fellow students, I would 
earnestly exhort you to be pointedly attentive to 
your manners even amidst all the unceremonious 
freedom of daily and hourly communication with 
your equals. It would, indeed, border on the ridi- 
culous in intercourse with fellow students to adhere 
to all the punctilious forms of etiquette which ought 
to be observed in regard to strangers and superiors; 
but still, even with class-mates, and room-mates, 
there may be unwise freedoms, and disgusting 
coarseness, which ought to be carefully avoided by 
all who would derive the greatest advantage from 
the society of their fellows. 

In framing a general code of manners for regu- 
lating intercourse with fellow students, the great 
difficulty is to avoid such details as would be 
tedious, and at the same time to go into particulars 
sufficiently to furnish an adequate guide for most 
practical occasions. I shall endeavour to pursue 
5* 



54 MANNERS. 

such a middle course as to make my counsels 
intelligible, and adapted to the occurrences of every 
day, without being unduly minute. 

Remember, then, if you desire to be regarded by 
every fellow student with good will and respect, to 
avoid every thing that is adapted to wound or irri- 
tate feelings. The language of ridicule, of sneer, 
of sarcasm, of harsh censure, can never be uttered, 
even to your most intimate companion, without 
producing more or less alienation. A rough tone, 
a contemptuous look, a disrespectful epithet or in- 
sinuation, seldom fails to leave an impression, 
which, though not openly resented at the moment, 
is not easily effaced. I have known such impres- 
sions to last for years, and him who received them 
to complain, that, though retaining them was con- 
trary to his own better judgment, he was unable to 
dismiss them from his mind. If a fellow student 
be of such a temper or character that you wish to 
avoid all intercourse with him, let not your deport- 
ment, unless in very extreme and extraordinary 
cases, be that of haughty contempt, of scorn, or of 
open reproach, which might naturally lead to colli- 
sion and violence; a collision and violence always to 
be deprecated in proportion to the evil character of 
the individual desired to be avoided. Many a youth, 
under the impulse of a generous and high-minded 
abhorrence of vice, has inconsiderately testified that 
abhorrence in a way which has unnecessarily drawn 



MANNERS. 55 

upon him the bitter resentment and brutal violence 
of a ruffian, which might easily have been avoided 
without any unfaithfulness to the cause of virtue. 
The aim of a young person, to avoid giving coun- 
tenance to vice, may be much more appropriately 
and happily gained, by a deportment of dignified 
reserve, of quiet and silent but firm withdrawment 
from all communication. 

But in regard to those fellow students who do 
not, by either folly or vice, render all comfortable 
intercourse with them impracticable, make a point 
of maintaining, toward them all, a deportment re- 
spectful, kind and conciliatory. You will, of course, 
be more intimate with some than with others. 
Nay, I would strongly advise you to be really inti- 
mate with very few. But for such intimacy I hope 
you will not fail to select the best scholars, and the 
most polished, pure and honourable of the whole 
number; — those whose talents and acquirements 
will render their society profitable, and whose moral 
correctness will render them safe associates. But 
while you do this, try to establish with all the 
character of perfect gentlemen, and young men of 
strict honour. Avoid all lofty airs; all repulsive 
looks, gestures and language in addressing them. 
Be ready to oblige, affable and accommodating to 
every one. You will find a number of students in 
the college, and perhaps some among your class- 
mates, whose parents are known to be in straitened 



56 MANNERS. 

circumstances, and who manifest by their strict 
economy, their plain dress, and by all their habits, 
that they are poor. Let me charge you never to 
be guilty of the weakness of undervaluing such, 
^merely on account of their poverty, and preferring 
to associate with the children of the rich, merely on 
account of their fancied superior rank. There is a 
littleness and a folly in such estimates of which I 
hope my children will never be guilty. Respect 
and treat every student according to his personal 
worth, not according to his purse. Recollect that, 
a few years hence, the youth the scantiness of 
whose finances kept him modest and sober-minded, 
may be found to have far outstripped in learning, 
in wisdom, in virtue and true elevation in society, 
the son of the proudest nabob, who, on account of 
his well-lined pocket, proved a miserable scholar, 
and an ignoble profligate. 

3. I have only to add, that it is of more import- 
ance than is commonly supposed for college stu- 
dents to maintain becoming manners toward the 
inhabitants of the town when called to have inter- 
course with them. The readiness of college stu- 
dents to quarrel with the townspeople in the midst 
of whom they live, is an old occurrence, to which 
there is a continual tendency, and of which the 
consequences are as mischievous as they are pain- 
ful. The pride and folly of students are apt to take 
the alarm where no insult or injury was intended; 



MANNERS. 57 

and the morbid and ridiculous sensibility of towns- 
people frequently leads them seriously to resent that 
which ought to have been overlooked as an effu- 
sion of childish weakness. In how many instances 
has this miserable folly led to conflicts and violence 
of which all parties had reason to be ashamed! 

My desire, my dear sons, and my earnest advice 
is, that in moving about through the village in 
which your college is placed, and in all your occa- 
sional intercourse with its inhabitants, you mani- 
fest all the decorum and delicacy of young gentle- 
men, who have too much self-respect to violate the 
feelings of others; and too much regard to what is 
due to every fellow creature to allow of your in- 
dulging caprice, or selfishness, or ill-humour, at 
their expense. When you pass either boys or 
adults in the street, let no indication of either con- 
tempt or hostile feeling escape you. If any feeling 
of that kind is manifested on their part, do not per- 
mit yourselves, in ordinary circumstances, to under- 
stand or to notice it. Instead of its being manly to 
resent, or to chastise the petty insolence of such 
people, it is rather the part of wayward children, 
who, by such conduct, expose their own weakness 
and ignorance of the world, rather than the ill con- 
duct of others. I have never known a fracas to 
occur, as it is commonly expressed, between col- 
lege students and town-boys, however ill the latter 
may have behaved, without finding occasion to 



58 MANNERS. 

throw nine-tenths of the blame on the former. 
Young men of cultivated minds and polished habits 
ought to have too much discernment, and too much 
consideration, to plunge headlong into a conflict 
from which neither credit nor profit can possibly be 
derived; from which, even if they are victorious, 
nothing but disgrace can result. What though 
town-boys adopt the opinion, that the students of 
college are unwilling to fight with them? What 
though they think and say, that they are either too 
proud or too cowardly to enter the lists with them? 
What harm can such imputations do you? Is it 
not better to bear them in silence, when it is evi- 
dent that your character cannot be materially 
affected by them, than to engage in a contest of fisti- 
cuffs with those who are reckless of consequences; 
to be rolled in the dust; to have your garments torn 
from your backs; and to retire from the contest 
with black eyes, and bloody noses, and perhaps the 
loss of limb, or even life to some; and after all with 
the miserable consolation that you have finally 
gained a victory from which no honour can pos- 
sibly be derived, but, on the contrary, it may be, 
many a painful memorial lasting as life. 

If you desire wholly to avoid such dishonourable 
conflicts, you must carefully avoid every thing 
which can possibly lead to them. " The prudent 
man," says Solomon, "foreseeth the evil and hideth 
himself, but the simple pass on and are punished." 



MANNERS. 59 

A very small amount of discretion will be sufficient 
to put you on your guard against all those modes 
of treating the people of the town, whether young 
or old, which will be apt to draw upon you their 
dislike, or excite them to particular acts of personal 
disrespect or violence. Whether you enter the 
store of the merchant, the shop of the mechanic, or 
the hotel of the publican; whether you encounter 
the townsman in the social circle, or his children or 
apprentices in the street, let nothing approaching 
to the offensive escape you toward any of them. 
If any mechanic should either do your work badly, 
or overreach you in his charges, or in any way treat 
you ill, I hope you will never think of quarrelling 
with him, or assailing him with abusive language; 
but simply of withdrawing from him, and never 
again putting yourselves in his power. And so if 
any word or look or gesture of insolent character 
should be shown by any of the townspeople, young 
or old, do not appear to notice it. Turn away, and 
try to avoid coming in contact with them again. 
Reject with scorn, as a dictate at once of sin and 
folly, the maxim so often in the mouth of youthful 
inexperience — "that it is dastardly to take an un- 
civil word or look from any one without resenting 
it." He who acts upon this maxim may always 
expect to have a sufficient number of quarrels and. 
broils on his hands; and, in fact, to be at the mercy 



60 MANNERS. 

of every ruffian who wishes to involve him in a dis- 
reputable conflict. 

I have sometimes seen young men in " Nassau 
Hall," whose manners in all the respects which I 
have mentioned, were worthy of being regarded as 
a model for your imitation. I wish it were in my 
power to hold them up to your view with all the 
bright and graphic clearness with which their per- 
sonal deportment was invested. I will try to set 
before you the example of one of their number, 
which will never be effaced from my memory, and 
which I could wish might be indelibly impressed 
upon yours. 

The youth to whom I refer was the son of re- 
spectable parents, in very moderate and indeed 
rather straitened circumstances. He was, of course, 
altogether unable to indulge in large expenditures, 
and was obliged to exercise the strictest economy 
in dress, and in all his habits. He was not at all 
distinguished as a genius; but he had a good mind; 
was indefatigably diligent in study; was a good 
scholar, and maintained an honourable standing in 
his class. But his deportment as a member of the 
college, was above all praise. Though he was no 
way related to me, yet I had much opportunity of 
being acquainted with his character and course. 
And I never heard of his infringing the smallest law 
of the institution, or incurring the remotest frown 
from any member of the faculty. Whether in the 



MANNERS. 61 

lecture-room or the prayer-hall, in the refectory or 
the campus, his manners were those of the perfect 
gentleman. He was no talebearer. He was no 
supercilious censor. The strictest integrity, delica- 
cy and honour were manifest in all his intercourse. 
The law of kindness and of respectfulness ever 
dwelt upon his tongue, and marked all his deport- 
ment. A profane or uncivil word, during the whole 
three years that he spent in Princeton, was, proba- 
bly, never heard to escape from his lips. All his fel- 
low students loved him; for I doubt whether, in his 
treatment of any one of them, he ever departed from 
the most perfect urbanity. He was never heard to 
call any of ihem by an offensive nick-name. He 
never allowed himself to refer to events or circum- 
stances adapted to give any one pain. His deport- 
ment toward the very servants of the college, was 
always such as to conciliate their respect, and even 
their affection. He was at the greatest remove 
from being chargeable with smiling on vice; and 
yet his opposition to it was maintained, rather by 
standing aloof from the vicious, and refraining from 
all fellowship with the works of darkness, than by 
positive reproof, or acrimonious censure. Even 
those whose company he avoided never complained 
of his deportment as uncivil. It was marked by 
no offensive demeanour, but by mere abstinence 
from their society. The very worst of his fellow 
students respected him, and " had no evil thing to 
6 



62 MANNERS. 

say of him;" and when engaged in schemes of mis- 
chief, were almost as anxious to conceal them from 
him as from the members of the faculty. It is 
hardly necessary to add, that during his whole 
course in the institution, he was never once involv- 
ed in a scrape or quarrel with an associate, or gave 
any one even a pretext for assailing him. 

When this exemplary young man moved about 
among the people of the town, the same inoffensive 
and perfectly popular manners marked all his con- 
duct. His treatment of every mechanic whom he 
employed; of every servant who waited on him, or 
accosted him; of every child in the street was ever 
so distinguished by kindness and affability, that he 
was a favourite among them all. He was so far 
from ever involving himself in broils or disputes 
with the rudest of their number, that his approach 
seemed to be greeted with pleasure wherever he 
went. When he came to be graduated, his place 
on the list of honours was quite as high as he de- 
served, because every body loved and delighted to 
do him honour. And when he returned to the vil- 
lage, from time to time, for a number of years after 
he had left it, he was hailed by all, from the highest 
to the lowest, as a respected friend. 

If I could cherish the hope, my dear sons, that 
you would walk in the steps of this admirable 
youth, and leave the institution with which it is 
your privilege to be connected, with a character 



MANNERS. 63 

like his, my highest wishes, as to this point, would 
be gratified. And why may you not? Are you 
not sensible that the manners which I have de- 
scribed are precisely those which would carry you 
through life with popularity and honour? And do 
you not know that, if you wish to attain such man- 
ners, you cannot begin too early to cultivate them; 
and that those which you carry with you from col- 
lege will be apt to follow you through life? 

I have as yet said nothing of the use of profane 
language in common conversation, as belonging to 
the subject of manners. As you have been taught, 
from your childhood, to abhor the language of pro- 
faneness, as a sin against God, I trust there is no 
need of my enlarging on this point. But I wish 
you to remember that, independently of 'the offence 
against the majesty of heaven, which ought to be 
and will be decisive with every mind not thorough- 
ly impious, the use of such language is as gross an 
offence against good breeding as it is against the 
law of God. There is no principle of good manners 
more self-evident, or more generally admitted than 
this, that in social intercourse we ought to avoid 
every thing adapted to give pain to those with 
whom we converse. Now, can it be doubted that 
there are many — very many with whom we are 
called daily to converse, who are sincerely grieved, 
nay, offended when they hear " the name of God 
taken in vain," or any form of profane speech in- 



64 MANNERS. 

dulged in their presence? Their sense of propriety 
is outraged, and their moral feelings painfully in- 
vaded by every expression of this nature. Is it the 
part of a gentleman to allow himself to do this? I 
apprehend that every man of common sense and 
common decency will emphatically say, no. And 
yet how strange is it that many who would be as- 
tonished and offended to hear their claim to the 
character of gentlemen called in question, at the 
same time, do not scruple every day to wound the 
feelings of those with whom they converse with 
language, which, if it be not grossly blasphemous, 
is such as is adapted to give pain to the pious, if not 
to the decently moral hearer. 

If these sentiments be just, what shall be said of 
that young man who, when he sees a clergyman, 
or other well known professor of religion, approach- 
ing him, within a few feet, or immediately after 
having passed him a similar distance, is heard to 
blurt out as loudly as to insure its being audible 
the most profane or otherwise indecent language? 
This is not merely impious; it is brutal, and those 
who can be guilty of it, ought to be abhorred as 
well as despised. 

The practice which I have sometimes known to 
be indulged in colleges of turning particular stu- 
dents into ridicule, by repeating disrespectful nick- 
names, or by satirizing certain peculiarities or cha- 
racteristics, is certainly an infringment of those good 






MANNERS. 65 

manners which ought to be cultivated in every 
literary institution. Suppose a gentleman in com- 
mon life were called upon to be frequently in the 
company of a respectable Jew, or a person who had 
lost an eye, or who, on account of lameness, moved 
about on crutches, what would be thought of him 
if he were continually to address these persons re- 
spectively by nicknames reminding each of his 
peculiarity? Suppose he were always to call the 
first, whenever he spoke to him, "• Israelite;" the 
second, "Blinkard;" and the third, "Crutch" — 
would he be considered as a man of good manners? 
Yet an offence against good manners in this respect 
is one of the most common faults in all the colleges 
I have ever known. I once knew a respectable 
and promising young Jew who entered one of our 
colleges. His talents were good, his temper amia- 
ble, and his manners of the most inoffensive kind. 
Yet he was so continually twitted by a few — I am 
happy to say it was by a very few, of the coarse 
vulgar young men around him — by referring to his 
circumcision — by offering him pork, and by a 
variety of similar forms of ridicule, that the resi- 
dence of a few weeks convinced him that he could 
not longer remain with comfort a member of the 
institution. He was withdrawn; and was prevented 
from ever passing through any college. How dis- 
graceful as well as injurious is such conduct on the 
part of young men, estimating the value of and seek- 
6* 



66 MANNERS. 

ing to obtain a liberal education, and claiming the 
character of gentlemen! 

And must all the principles of decorum and 
delicacy be set aside for the sake of giving leave to 
coarse young men, whenever an unfortunate com- 
panion approaches them, to remind him of his in- 
firmity by a ludicrous or contemptuous nickname? 
It would be outrageous in the walks of decent life 
to address an acquaintance as « Mr. Clubfoot," — 
"Mr. Squintum," "Mr. Humpback," or one re- 
markably thin, "Mr. Barebones." Ought it to be 
deemed otherwise in college life, where decorum 
and refinement ought to hold a sacred reign? 

My dear sons, there is more, after all, in the effi- 
cacy of manners than I can tell you in one short 
letter. If it be true, as has been sometimes said, 
that "a good face is an open letter of recommenda- 
tion/' it is equally true that there is a magic in 
pleasant manners which scarcely any thing can 
resist. They can cover a multitude of defects; and 
they have a thousand times done more for men 
than all their substantial qualities put together. 
The youth who undervalues or neglects them, 
whatever other advantages he may possess, is un- 
der a miserable delusion. 

I have dwelt so long on this subject that I fear 
you will begin to think it an intricate one, and 
imagine that tolerable skill in this matter will be 
of difficult attainment. If this be the case you 



MANNERS. 67 

greatly mistake. I grant, indeed, that the conven- 
tional habits of courtly society are not to be ac- 
quired at once by the inexperienced youth. Much 
intercourse with the polite world and close obser- 
vation are indispensable to familiarity and skill in 
these matters. But the cultivation and attainment 
of those manners for which I now plead is a sim- 
ple and easy thing. Let the most youthful stu- 
dent who can be expected to be found within the 
walls of a college, only possess good, sense, true 
benevolence, and, of course, an unwillingness to 
give pain to any one, and a sincere desire to make 
all around him happy; let him be affable, good- 
tempered, and desirous of pleasing all around him. 
Suppose him to possess these simple elements of 
moral character, and nothing more will be neces- 
sary to make him an inoffensive and pleasant com- 
panion in a literary institution, or in any part of 
the world. 



68 



LETTER IV 



MORALS. 



Qui proficit in Uteris, et deficit in rnoribus, non proficit, sed de- 
ficit." - Oecolampadius. 

"The excesses of our youth are drafts upon our old age, pay- 
able, with interest, about thirty years after date." Lacon I. 76. 

My Dear Sons, 

The disposition to prefer intellectual to moral 
reputation is deplorably prevalent in seminaries of 
learning. Many an ambitious youth, if he could 
establish a character for distinguished genius and 
scholarship, would be quite content to lie under 
the imputation of moral delinquency. Or, at least, 
if he must be defective in either, he would de- 
cisively choose that it should be in regard to 
moral purity. I need not say, that this preference 
is an instance of deplorable infatuation. It is as 
much opposed to common sense as it is to the word 
of God. And it is of the utmost importance that 
the minds of youth be early imbued with senti- 
ments adapted to its correction. 

I am aware that many sober thinkers are op- 



MORALS. 69 

posed to the consideration of this subject apart 
from religion. They insist that what is called 
moral philosophy is a mere system of refined infi- 
delity; that pure morals cannot be hoped for, and 
ought not to be inculcated, apart from pure, evan- 
gelical religion; and that all attempts to promote 
them on any other principles is an attempt to 
"gather grapes of thorns and figs of thistles." I 
am by no means able to concur in this opinion, 
especially in all its extent. I acknowledge, indeed, 
that the Bible is the only infallible and perfectly 
pure teacher of morals. I acknowledge, too, that 
nothing can be relied on either for the attainment 
or the maintenance of sound morality, but the reli- 
gion of Jesus Christ, sincerely believed and em- 
braced as a practical system. He who expects 
strict moral principle to hold a consistent and 
steady reign in the heart of any man who is not a 
real Christian, will infallibly be disappointed. Yet 
I should not be willing to say, that duty ought in 
no case to be inculcated by any other arguments 
than those drawn from the gospel. I should more 
than hesitate to assert, that lying, and theft, and 
fraud, and drunkenness, and impurity, and gambling 
ought never to be prohibited by reasonings which 
the infidel might not be made to feel, as well as the 
Christian. These sins, indeed, ought always to be 
denounced as forbidden in the word of God; as 
objects of his righteous displeasure; as contrary to 



70 MORALS. 

the spirit and will of Christ; and as wholly incon- 
sistent with the Christian character. But may 
they not — ought they not to be made to appear 
vile and hateful even in the eyes of the sceptic and 
atheist? Is it wrong to tell men that there are 
crimes against the community, as well as against 
God; that the practice of them is unreasonable, 
injurious to all the interests of the individual and 
of society, unfriendly to health, to peace of mind, 
to the principles of justice, benevolence and truth; 
in short, to hold up to view their mischievous and 
odious character by representations, which the 
rejector of revelation, no less than the professed 
believer, will see to be conclusive? The moral phi- 
losopher may, indeed, be an infidel. When he is so, 
it is to be deplored. He is shorn of a large part of 
his strength. Still he has a number of weapons left, 
which are not without their value, and their con- 
vincing power, even to a brother in unbelief. He 
may, with great propriety, tell those who listen to 
him, that the crimes above specified are hurtful to 
himself, to his intellect, to his physical frame, to his 
reputation, to his influence in society, to his chil- 
dren, to the community at large. This is moral phi- 
losophy. Its best armoury, no doubt, is the Bible; 
but, at the same time, it is not without weapons 
which those who reject the Bible may feel and be 
benefited by. 

The object of this letter, my dear sons, is to con- 



MORALS. 71 

vince you that good morals are indispensable to the 
safety, health, happiness, and true welfare of all, in 
every walk of life; and, therefore, that those who 
are preparing to live by the acquirement of an edu- 
cation, and by professional character, ought to 
make their moral culture an object of primary and 
unceasing attention. A man without genius, with- 
out eminent talents, may be both useful* and hap- 
py. With barely decent powers of mind, if he be 
honest, sober, industrious, and prudent, he may be 
beloved, respected and highly useful, may "serve 
his generation by the will of God," and leave 
a name behind him of unspeakably more value 
than great riches. But however transcendent his 
talents, if he be a liar, intemperate, dishonest, or 
licentious, he will, of course, be despised by the 
wise and the good, and no degree of patronage 
can give him an honourable standing in society. 
In fact, no one without a fair moral character can 
hope to rise in the world; and the more firm and 
fixed that character the more precious a treasure it 
will be found, whatever may be our lot in life. 

Need I tell you, for example how fatal intempe- 
rance is to the body, to the mind, to reputation, to 
all professional respectability and success? Need I 
attempt to set before you the melancholy picture, 
so often presented to the public view, of talents 
degraded, of health undermined and ruined, of pro- 
perty squandered, of families prostrated by this 



72 MORALS. 

fell destroyer? Who that has seen so many of the 
deplorable triumphs of strong drink over all the 
best interests of man for time and eternity, can hold 
his peace, or forbear to proclaim to every young 
man, "Fly, — fly from this arch-foe to human 
happiness! Let nothing tempt you to touch or 
taste the fatal cup. There is death in it. Your 
only safety is in total abstinence from the stimulus 
of strong drink in every form. If you allow your- 
self to taste it at all, there is too much reason to 
fear that it will become your master, and prove 
your ruin." When I hear of a young man that he 
has a fondness for strong drink, and has been seen 
under the power of intoxication, I instinctively give 
him up as lost, and abandon all hope of ever seeing 
him either respectable or useful. There is no sin 
which more directly tends to secure its own con- 
tinuance and increase, or which more infallibly 
produces the wreck of all human prosperity. 
What though the deluded youth intends only to 
indulge to a small extent, and to avoid habitual 
excess? What though he abhors the character of 
the drunkard, and is firmly determined to stop long 
before he reaches the drunkard's dishonour? Does 
he not know that there is not the least reason to 
rely upon his own resolution, however sincere at 
the time, and that he who parleys with the tempter 
is probably lost. 

No less fatal to the true honour and happiness of 



MORALS. 73 

a young man is the want of integrity. What 
though he had all the talents and all the scho- 
larship that ever fell to the lot of a mortal? Yet if 
he were known to be regardless of truth, to be desti- 
tute of honesty and honour in the intercourse of 
society, — who would respect him? who could avoid 
instinctively despising him? Who would think of 
employing or trusting him in matters of weight and 
importance? Even the worst of his classmates 
would turn away from him with contempt and ab- 
horrence, as unworthy of confidence in any thing. 
And in regard to his future profession and prospects 
what could be more hopeless? It cannot be sup- 
posed that such a young man would seek the office of 
a minister of the gospel; from that the common con- 
sent of all would, of course, exclude him. But 
what other profession could he safely or honour- 
ably fill? None. In none could he obtain public 
esteem. In none could he succeed either as to 
emolument or confidence. A sort of honour even 
among thieves is indispensable to that standing 
with his comrades which even the occupant of 
such a wretched position desires to maintain. 

Nothing is more directly adapted to secure to 
any young man the highest respect and honour 
among his companions, than an established charac- 
ter for invincible veracity; a reputation for integ- 
rity, honour, and faithfulness which nothing can 
shake, nothing assail. I have known students by 
7 



74 MORALS. 

no means remarkable for either talents or scholar- 
ship, who, on account of these qualities, enjoyed 
the esteem and confidence of their fellows to a most 
enviable degree; who were always selected where 
delicate and confidential services were to be per- 
formed; and who were remembered to the close of 
life for this proverbial candour and truth. My 
dear sons, let me have the pleasure of knowing 
that you sustain such a character among your 
classmates and companions; that the mention of 
your name is a pledge, with all who know you, 
that you would rather die than be found guilty of 
prevarication or falsehood in the minutest matter. 

The same deplorable results must ensue to that 
youth who allows himself in college to imbibe the 
spirit and form the habits of a gambler. The 
foundation of this vice is often laid within the col- 
lege walls; and I need not say that there is scarcely 
any vice more directly adapted to "take away the 
heart," to fascinate the mind, to engross the atten- 
tion, and to destroy him who yields to it, for both 
worlds. Like many other vices it begins on a small 
scale. The youthful votary never dreams in the 
outset, of going far, or adventuring much. But the 
fascination and the fever gradually gain upon him. 
From one step to another he is led on, until ruin, 
despair and perhaps suicide close his career. 

Further; the use of trofane language may be 
numbered among those immoral practices which 



MORALS. 75 

disgrace literary institutions, and exert a mischie- 
vous influence wherever indulged. God has for- 
bidden us to take his holy name in vain, and has 
declared that He "will not hold him guiltless" who 
violates this command. Now we may be always 
said to take the name of God in vain when we 
pronounce it in a light and irreverent manner, and, 
above all, when profane oaths and imprecations, 
and the language of blasphemy, escape our lips. 
This sin is invested with so many hateful charac- 
teristics that it is truly wonderful that any one who 
lays claim to culture or decency should ever be 
heard to indulge it. It marks a spirit of high- 
handed impiety. It tends to excite and encourage 
a similar spirit in others. It is deeply offensive 
and grievous to all who fear God, and reverence 
his word; and is, of course, a species of ill manners 
of the most vulgar character, of which every one 
who professes to be a gentleman ought to be 
deeply ashamed. Surely such language ought to 
be left to those who not only despise God and his 
law, but who also set at naught all that decorum 
which marks the intercourse of the well educated 
and polished portion of the community. 

I shall only notice particularly one more vice, 
which has been the source of more injury and degra- 
dation to promising young men, than any statements 
or estimate of mine can adequately portray. I 
mean the licentiousness of the libertine in 



76 MORALS. 

regard to the other sex. It is not easy to speak of 
this subject without such an offence against deli- 
cacy as is revolting to virtuous minds. Still truth 
must be stated, and warning given to those who 
have not closed their ears against all the dictates of 
wisdom. There is no doubt that the illicit inter- 
course of the sexes is the source of immeasurable 
misery, shame and ruin; not merely to females, 
destroyed by seducers, but also to the seducers 
themselves and to all who are involved in their 
destiny. However lightly this sin may be con- 
sidered by the licentious, unprincipled young man, 
there is, perhaps, no sin connected with more mul- 
tiform and deplorable evils. It is not only a viola- 
tion of the holy law of God, which denounces 
against it his wrath and curse; but it is productive 
of countless miseries in the present life of the most 
awful kind. It pollutes the mind. It hardens the 
heart. It corrupts the whole moral character. It 
inflicts on- society heavy and complicated injuries. 
It destroys the peace of families. It entails infamy 
and misery on posterity. I have known a num- 
ber of young men, otherwise of high promise, who 
by a single unhallowed connection of this kind 
have drawn a dark cloud over all their subsequent 
course; have found themselves embarrassed and 
depressed at every attempt to gain a respectable 
place in society; entirely cut off from the associa- 
tions and the honours which they might otherwise 



MORALS. 77 

have gained; and avoided by all decent people — 
and especially by those who have regular and 
orderly families, as persons whose touch is pollu- 
tion. 

I would say, then, to you, my sons, and to every 
youth in whom I felt a special interest — Turn 
away from this sin, and from every thing which 
leads to it, as you would from a cup of poison, or 
from the assassin's dagger. If you desire to avoid 
becoming its victims, never allow yourselves to 
parley with, but fly from it. Here he who delibe- 
rates is lost. One transgression, as in the case of 
the drunkard's cup, may lead to another and an- 
other, until the chains of iniquity are riveted around 
you, and the destruction of your character and of 
all your prospects in life is for ever sealed. If you 
wish to avoid the entanglements and disgrace 
which have entailed infamy and misery on thou- 
sands; if you would preserve a character unspotted, 
and do nothing to interfere with your enjoyment 
of that pure and happy conjugal connection, which 
it ought to be the desire and the sacred ambition 
of every young man to form, as one of the noblest 
institutions of heaven, and, like the sabbath and 
the gospel, adapted to shed countless blessings on 
individuals and the world;— then keep yourselves 
pure from this sin, and sacredly avoid every thing 
which may serve as an incentive to so great an 
evil. 

7* 



7S MORALS. 

But I will not multiply particulars further. I 
hope you are convinced, my dear sons, that every 
form of immorality is as unfriendly to your tem- 
poral success in life, as it is offensive in the eyes of 
a holy God, and adapted to draw down his judg- 
ments upon you. "The way of transgressors is 
indeed hard." Misery and shame are its native 
and necessary consequences. You may hope by 
the force of your talents, and by the fame of your 
scholarship, to obviate these consequences. But 
this is "fighting against God." If you indulge in 
any form of immorality, it would require a con- 
stant course of miracles to save you from the tem- 
poral as well as eternal penalty which a holy God 
has annexed to the transgression of his law. And 
remember, I entreat you, two things which are 
worthy of your serious consideration in regard to 
immoral practices. 

The first is that the young are peculiarly ex- 
posed to these criminal and mischievous indul- 
gences. Their passions are strong; their experience 
is small; their moral principles are too often weak 
and wavering; their feelings are sanguine and 
buoyant; their self-confidence is great; and they 
are frequently led on by the social principle to 
practices which, however manifestly perilous, have 
never been duly considered. how often are 
young persons led "like an ox to the slaughter," by 
evil passions, or evil companions, or both, into habits 



MORALS. 79 

from which they apprehend no danger! Our cor- 
rupt hearts, indeed, are apt, at all ages, to triumph 
over conscience and the dictates of virtue; but in 
youth many of the safeguards against vice which 
longer experience and more sedate feelings furnish, 
either do not exist at all, or operate much more 
feebly. if a young man, when he begins to 
slide, could see, as his older friends or his parents 
see, the yawning gulf on the brink of which he 
stands, and the awful peril to which he is exposed, 
he would be thankful to any one who should in- 
terpose, and with a friendly hand forcibly pull him 
away from the precipice. But as he is peculiarly 
exposed to danger, so it is hard to make him see or 
feel its reality. 

The second consideration worthy of your serious 
regard is, that as youth is a season of peculiar ex- 
posure to the entanglements of immorality, so the 
immoral habits then formed are peculiarly apt to 
establish a fatal reign, and finally and totally to 
destroy their unhappy victims. Habits formed in 
the morning of life are apt to "grow with the growth 
and strengthen with the strength." It has been 
remarked by sagacious observers of human nature, 
that as young men, from the ardour of their feel- 
ings, and their love of excitement, are more apt, 
for example, to be ensnared by strong drink than 
those more advanced in life; so tippling habits 
formed in early life are peculiarly apt to gain 



80 MORALS. 

strength, to take a firmer and more morbid hold of 
the physical frame, and to drag their victim more 
powerfully and speedily to a drunkard's grave. 

The same general remark may be made concern- 
ing almost every other form of vice; — concerning 
departures from the solemnity of truth, the indul- 
gence of illicit sexual intercourse, and approaches 
to the gambler's career. He who is enabled to 
keep himself pure from these sins during his youth, 
has gained an advantage for which he can never 
be sufficiently thankful. Every successive year 
that this happy exemption continues, augments, 
under God, his ground of confidence and hope. 
Now is the time, my dear sons, if you wish to form 
habits which will bear reflection; which will secure 
you from the vices which are daily destroying 
thousands; which will prepare you, by the blessing 
of God, for a useful and honoured career; and for 
a green and happy old age, with bodily and mental 
faculties unimpaired by excess; with grateful recol- 
lections of the past, and with a good hope through 
grace for the future. Guard with the utmost care, 
and with humble unceasing application to the God 
of all grace for strength, against every approach 
to that which is forbidden. And remember that in 
all of the extent of the expression it may be said, 
that "the ways of wisdom are ways of pleasant- 
ness, and all her paths peace." 



SI 



LETTER V. 

RELIGION. 

Chose admirable! la religion Chretienne, qui ne semble avoir 
d'objet que la felicite de l'autre vie, fait encore n6tre bonhcur dans 
celle-ci. Montesquieu. 

My Dear Sons, 

I have hitherto addressed you on subjects so 
practically and immediately important in college 
life; so universally acknowledged to be essential to 
all decorum of character, and all respectability of 
standing in decent society, that you will not, it is 
presumed, admit for a moment of doubt or cavil in 
regard to any thing which has been advanced. But 
I must now request your attention to a subject 
concerning which there is great diversity of opin- 
ion, and especially of feeling, among young men. 
For though it is, incontrovertibly, the most import- 
ant of all subjects which the human mind can con- 
template; yet you see and hear enough every day 
to know, that the great majority of those around 
you, of all ages, and especially of those who are 
borne along by the sanguine hopes and the ardent 



82 RELIGION. 

passions of youth, have no disposition to make Reli- 
gion even an object of serious inquiry, much less to 
submit to its governing power. Yet can any thing 
be more self-evident than that, if there be an object 
within the range of human study more worthy of 
supreme attention than all others, religion is that 
object? Surely, to every thinking being, the exist- 
ence and character of our Almighty Creator; the 
relations and responsibility which we bear to him; 
the means of obtaining his favour; the immortality 
and destiny of our souls; and the method of securing 
endless blessedness, when all the possessions and 
enjoyments of this world shall have passed away — 
are objects of regard which infinitely transcend all 
others in interest and importance. How, then, 
shall we account for the undeniable fact, that these 
great objects, though confessedly the most interest- 
ing that can be presented to the human mind, are 
precisely those which educated, intellectual young 
men are more apt to neglect and disregard than 
all others? I can account for this unquestionable 
and distressing fact, only by recognising as assuredly 
true, what the Bible declares concerning our fallen 
and depraved nature; — that "the natural (or un- 
renewed) man receiveth not the things of the spirit 
of God, neither can he know them, because they 
are spiritually descerned;" — that "madness is in 
the hearts of men while they live, and after that 
they go to the dead." This statement solves the 



RELIGION. S3 

difficulty; and shows us why it is that, while a 
great majority, even of the young, grant in words 
that piety is both wisdom and happiness; while they 
confess that they ought to be pious; and while so 
many profess to lament that they are not pious; yet 
that millions with these confessions on their lips, 
voluntarily neglect this great concern, as if it were 
known to be the veriest fable. Their judgments 
are in favour of it. Their consciences tell them 
that it ought not to be neglected; but " they have 
no heart for it;' 7 and hence they go on from day to 
day to postpone all attention to it, without anxiety, 
and without regret. 

Allow me to hope that my beloved sons, — who 
have been dedicated to God in holy baptism; who 
have lived, from their infancy, in a house of Bibles, 
and of prayer; and who have already seen, even 
in the few years they have lived, so many of the 
deplorable fruits of impiety,— will not indulge in 
this infatuation; or rather that they will beg of the 
God of all grace to enable them to take a wiser 
course, and, like one commended of old, to "choose 
that good part which shall not be taken away from 
them." 

But where, on this subject, shall I begin? That 
every human being has within him an immortal 
spirit which will survive the dissolution of the body; 
that there is a God who made us, who has a right 
to our services, and who will finally be our judge; 



84 RELIGION. 

that He is a being of infinite holiness, who cannot 
look upon sin but with abhorrence: and that with- 
out his favour we can never be happy — these are 
first principles on this great subject, which, it is 
presumed no one but an atheist will, for a moment, 
deny or question. But how the favour of this great 
Being, with all its precious results, is to be obtained, 
and our happiness in both worlds secured, is the 
grand question which religion — the religion of Jesus 
Christ, and that alone, can satisfactorily answer. 

The great principle with which we are to begin, 
in all our inquiries on this subject, is that we are 
sinners; that we need pardon for our offences, and 
the purification of our depraved nature. No expres- 
sions are more common among all classes of men 
than those of Saviour and salvation. But why do 
we need a Saviour, unless we are involved in guilt 
and ruin before God? Why need a Redeemer and 
redemption, unless we are the bond slaves of sin and 
Satan, and can be ransomed only by an Almighty 
Deliverer paying our debt to the justice of God, 
and making an atonement for our sins? Accord- 
ingly the word of God teaches us, not merely, that, 
if we go on to forget and neglect the divine law, 
we are in danger of incurring the awful displeasure 
of our Maker and Sovereign; but that we are "con- 
demned already;" that we are by nature guilty 
and polluted, and must inevitably perish unless we 
are delivered from condemnation and depravity by 



RELIGION. 85 

the power and grace of the Saviour. The whole 
strain of Scripture, from beginning to end, repre- 
sents us as in these deplorable circumstances. 
When it proclaims that Christ came "to seek and 
to save the lost;" when it tells us that "the whole 
have no need of a physician, but they who are 
sick;" when it calls upon all the children of men in 
every situation of life to " repent of sin;" and when 
it assures us that, without a renovation of our na- 
ture we can never see the face of God in peace, it 
is evident that all these representations conspire to 
fasten upon us the charge of being fallen and de- 
praved creatures, in need of deliverance from ruin. 
If this be so, surely our situation is most serious, 
demanding all that solemn consideration in regard 
to our acceptance with God, and our preparation 
for meeting Him, which the holy Scriptures every- 
where call upon us to exercise. 

It has been your privilege, my dear sons, from 
your childhood, to be instructed in the way of sal- 
vation by Christ. But this is one of the great sub- 
jects in regard to which "line upon line, and pre- 
cept upon precept" are found needful. You will 
not, therefore, I trust, consider it as superfluous to 
have your attention drawn to that great method of 
mercy which the word of God styles "glad tidings 
of great joy to all people." And I hope, too, you 
will not forget that it is one thing to contemplate 
and acknowledge this method of mercy as a mere 
8 



86 RELIGION. 

doctrinal statement, and quite another to receive it 
with gratitude and love, and make it the guide and 
joy of our lives. 

The following statement may be considered as 
exhibiting that plan of acceptance with God, and 
of eternal life, with which you have been familiar 
from your youth up. that it were impressed 
upon every heart connected with your institution, 
not merely as a system of theoretical belief, but as 
a plan of practical hope and life! 

Man was made perfectly upright; in full posses- 
sion of all the powers necessary to perfect moral 
agency, and with all the dispositions which prompt- 
ed to a perfectly correct use of those powers. But 
"man being in honour abode not." He rebelled 
against God. He violated the covenant under 
which he was placed, and became liable to the 
dreadful penalty which it denounced against trans- 
gressors. In this fall of our first parents we are 
all sharers. Adam, as the covenant head of our 
race, bore a representative character. He was so 
constituted by a sovereign God; and when he fell, 
all his posterity fell with him. "In Adam," says 
the inspired apostle, "all die." "By one man's 
disobedience" — he again declares, "many were 
made sinners." When our first father lost the 
holy image of God, he was, of course, incapable of 
transmitting it to us. We have, therefore, all to- 
tally lost our original righteousness; so that there 



RELIGION. 87 

is now, by nature, "none righteous, no not one." 
In short, we have all become guilty and polluted 
before God, and incapable of regaining his image 
or his favour by any merit or doings of our own. 
How, then, are we to be delivered from these de- 
plorable circumstances? How shall we escape that 
wrath and curse which are the just penalty of sin? 
"How can we escape the damnation of hell?" In 
one word, how can those who must confess them- 
selves to be sinners, miserable sinners, be saved? 
The law of God demands perfect obedience in 
thought, word and deed, upon pain of death. It 
makes no allowance for the smallest delinquency 
or imperfection, Indeed a Being of infinite purity 
cannot possibly demand less than perfection. To 
do this, would be to countenance sin. Nor can 
God set aside his own law, or permit his majesty 
and authority, as a righteous Governor, to be 
trampled under foot. To "clear the guilty;" to 
take impenitent rebels, polluted with the love, as 
well as laden with the guilt of sin, into the arms of 
his love, would be to "deny himself." Where, 
then, is our refuge? Can God, consistently with 
his righteous character, forgive sin at all? If he 
can, how much, and under what circumstances, 
can he forgive? To these questions the light of 
nature can give no answer. Without the light of 
revelation, clouds and darkness rest upon all the 
condition and prospects of our race. 



88 RELIGION. 

But, blessed be God! "life and immortality are 
brought to light through the gospel." Jehovah in 
his infinite wisdom, power and love, has devised 
and proclaimed a wonderful plan by which sin was 
punished in our representative, while the sinner is 
pardoned; by which justice is completely satisfied, 
while mercy is extended to the guilty and vile; by 
which " grace reigns through righteousness unto 
eternal life, by Jesus Christ our Lord." This 
wonderful and glorious plan of mercy consisted in 
the Father giving his own Son to obey, suffer, and 
die in our stead, as our substitute; and in the Son 
consenting to take our place, to bear the penalty of 
the law in our stead; to "put away sin by the 
sacrifice of himself;" and by his sufferings and 
obedience to purchase for us that justifying right- 
eousness which we could never have wrought out 
for ourselves. 

Such are the " glad tidings of great joy" which 
in the gospel are proclaimed to our fallen world;- — 
that the Lord Jesus Christ, the eternal Son of God, 
condescended, in his wonderful love, to assume our 
nature; to obey and suffer as our surety; to lift the 
penalty of sin from us, and take it on himself; and 
thus voluntarily to become the victim of divine 
justice in our stead. His language, in the eternal 
counsels of peace, was, "Let me suffer instead of 
the guilty, let me die to save them. Deliver them 
from going down to the pit; I will be their ran- 



RELIGION. 89 

som." This wonderful, this unparalleled offer was 
accepted. The Father was well pleased for the 
righteousness sake of his Son. He accepted his 
atoning sacrifice and perfect righteousness as the 
price of our justification; so that all who repent of 
sin, and believe in the name of this great Mediator, 
are "freely justified from all things from which 
they could not be justified by the law of Moses" — 
that is by their own works of obedience. So that 
the Scriptures may well say concerning the Saviour 
• — He is the end of the law for righteousness to 
every one that believelh. He is the Lord our 
righteousness. He was wounded for our trans- 
gressions; he was bruised for our iniquities; the 
chastisement of our peace was upon him; and by 
his stripes we are healed. He bare our sins in 
his own body on the tree. He died the just for 
the unjust, that he might bring us to God. He 
delivered us from the curse of the law, being 
made a curse for us. 

Here, then, my dear sons, is the only way of a 
sinner's return to God, and securing a title to eter- 
nal blessedness. In virtue of the covenant of re- 
demption, the righteousness of Christ, or what he 
did and suffered on our behalf, is placed to the ac- 
count of all who believe in him, as if they had per- 
formed it in their own persons. Though sinful and 
utterly unworthy in themselves, God is pleased to 
pardon and accept them as righteous in his sight 
8* 



90 RELIGION. 

only for the righteousness sake of his beloved Son. 
I am aware, indeed, that some who speak much of 
the "merits of Christ," and profess to rely entirely 
on those merits, represent the whole subject in a 
very different light. They suppose that, in consi- 
deration of the sufferings and death of our blessed 
Saviour, the original law of God, demanding per- 
fect obedience, is repealed, and a mitigated law 
prescribed as the rule of our obedience. So that 
now, under the Christian dispensation, a perfect 
obedience is not required, but only an imperfect 
one, accommodated to our fallen nature and our 
many infirmities. But they insist that this imper- 
fect obedience is the meritorious ground of our 
acceptance with God; and, of course, that eternal 
life is the purchase of our own works. In short, 
the doctrine of these errorists is, that the benefit 
conferred by the sufferings and death of Christ, 
consists, not in providing an entire righteousness 
for us, but only in abating the demands of the law; 
in bringing down the divine requirements more to 
a level with our ability, and still enabling us, low 
as we have fallen, to be the purchasers of salvation 
by our own obedience. Be assured this view of 
the subject is a grievous departure from the scrip- 
tural doctrine concerning the way of salvation. 
The Bible represents our pardon and acceptance 
with God as not founded, in any respect, or in any 
degree, on our own obedience; but as wholly of 



RELIGION. 91 

grace— as a mere unmerited gift, bestowed solely 
on account of what the Redeemer has done as our 
substitute and surety. It represents the holy law 
of God as remaining in all its original strictness 
without repeal or mitigation; and as still falling 
with the whole weight of its penalty on all who 
have taken refuge by faith in the Redeemer. But 
it declares the penalty to be removed from all who 
repent and believe the gospel, not on account of 
any worthiness in themselves, as the meritorious 
ground of the benefit, but only on account of the 
perfect righteousness of Him who, "through the 
Eternal Spirit offered himself without spot to God." 
In short, the doctrine of Christ is, that the holy 
character of God remaining unchangeably the 
same, and his law remaining without the least 
mitigation or abatement, the penitent and believing 
are accepted as righteous solely on account of the 
obedience of the Mediator set to their account, and 
considered as wrought for them. 

This righteousness of Jehovah the Saviour is 
said to be "to all, and upon all them that believe/' 
— that is, it is imputed to none — set to the ac- 
count of none but those who receive Christ by faith. 
Faith is that great master grace by which we be- 
come united to the Saviour, and his merits made 
ours. This righteousness, therefore, is called "the 
righteousness of faith," and "the righteousness of 
God by faith." Hence we are said to be "justified 



92 RELIGION. 

by faith/' and to be "saved by faith;" not that 
faith, as an act of ours, is, in any measure, the meri- 
torious ground of our justification; but all these 
expressions imply that there is an inseparable con- 
nection, in the economy of grace, between believing 
in Christ, and being justified by him, or having his 
righteousness imputed to us. Happy, thrice happy 
they, who can thus call the Saviour theirs, and who 
have thus "received the atonement." From this 
hour, though' unworthy in themselves, they are 
graciously pronounced righteous by their heavenly 
Judge, on account of what the Mediator has done. 
Their sins, though many, are, for his sake, forgiven 
them. They are "accepted in the Beloved." 
There is no condemnation to them now; and they 
shall find, to their eternal joy, that there is both 
safety and happiness in appearing clothed in the 
righteousness of Him who loved sinners, and gave 
himself for them, in "robes washed and made white 
in the blood of the Lamb." 

But we not only need to be justified by the 
righteousness of Christ; we also indispensably need 
to be sanctified by the Spirit of Christ. We are by 
nature polluted as well as guilty. Accordingly the 
purification of our hearts, as well as the pardon of 
our sins, is one of the great benefits which the 
blessed Redeemer has purchased and secured by 
covenant to all believers. And for both these 
benefits the plan of mercy exhibited in the Gospel 



RELIGION. 93 

makes equal and effectual provision. "Whom he 
justifies them he also sanctifies." By the power 
of the Holy Spirit the dominion of sin is broken in 
the hearts of all who are brought under the power 
of the gospel. The dominion of corruption in the 
soul is destroyed; the love of it is taken away; and 
though not perfectly sanctified in the present life, 
yet every believer has his sanctification begun. 
And it is carried on, not by his own wisdom or 
strength, but by the same divine power by which 
it was commenced; until he is, at last, made per- 
fectly holy, as well as perfectly happy, in the pre- 
sence of his God and Saviour. 

Such, my dear sons, is that most interesting of 
all messages which the religion of Jesus Christ 
brings to all who hear the Gospel. It charges us 
with being sinners — miserable sinners in the sight 
of God, without merit, without strength, and with- 
out hope in ourselves. It freely offers us peace 
and pardon, and sanctification, and eternal life, 
"without money and without price," that is as a 
free unmerited gift, "through the redemption that 
is in Christ Jesus." Its language is, "whosoever 
cometh to Him, he will in no wise cast out;" and 
again, "whosoever will, let him come, and take of 
the water of life freely." It calls upon you to re- 
nounce all confidence in yourselves, and to receive 
and rest on Christ alone for salvation as he is freely 
offered in the gospel. To this end, it is indispensa- 



94 RELIGION. 

ble that you be convinced of sin; that you feel a 
deep and cordial sense of your own sinfulness and 
unworthiness; that you despair of saving your- 
selves; that you fall at the footstool of sovereign 
grace, feeling that you deserve to die, and that you 
can have no hope but in the atoning blood and 
sanctifying spirit of the Redeemer. Until you are 
prepared to accept of Him with such convictions, 
and in this character; until you sincerely feel that 
you have nothing to plead but his merit, and hum- 
bly and gratefully to rely on his grace and love for 
all that you need, you have yet to learn all that is 
practical and precious of this holy religion. 

Say not, that our sinning and falling in Adam, 
and our recovery through the atoning sacrifice and 
righteousness of another, are mysteries which you 
cannot understand, and which are revolting to your 
minds. Surely it ought not to excite surprise or 
wonder in a reasonable being, that we should find 
mysteries in a plan of salvation contrived and made 
known by an infinite and incomprehensible God. 
But "let God be true, and every man a liar." 
What I have stated is plainly the doctrine of the 
word of God in relation to this great subject. It 
clearly informs us that as in Adam we lost our 
innocence, and the divine favour; so through Christ, 
who is styled the "second Adam," we regain both 
the favour and image of God. " The mouth of the 
Lord hath spoken it." Let this suffice. Let us 



RELIGION. 95 

abhor the thought of being found « fighting against 
God." 

But after all do you ask, of what great value is 
this religion, that you should be urged with so 
much importunity to embrace it? I hope you. will 
not be disposed to ask such a question; but if you 
should be, let me answer, its value is unspeakable, 
is infinite, for the present world, as well as the 
future; for "godliness is profitable unto all things, 
having the promise of the life that now is, as well 
as of that which is to come." 

True religion is the only solid basis and pledge 
of good morals. I do not say, that there are no 
examples of unblemished morals among those who 
are not truly religious. Nor do I mean to assert, 
that all who claim to be religious are correct in 
their morals. But my meaning is, that the posses- 
sion of true religion is the only sure pledge, the 
only effectual guaranty of sober deportment, of 
pure and exemplary morals, especially amidst the 
ardour and temptations of youth. It is a common 
maxim, among the men of the world, that "every 
man has his price." It cannot be denied, that, in- 
dependently of the power of religion, there is too 
much reason for the adoption of this maxim. No 
one can be considered as safe from the allurements 
of sensuality, of avarice, or of ambition, unless 
fortified by principles drawn from the power and 
grace of God. There is absolutely no security, my 



96 RELIGION. 

dear sons, in any thing short of this. We have all 
seen young men of the most elevated connections; 
of the finest talents; of the most excellent scholar- 
ship; of the very first general promise of character; 
and who seemed destined to adorn the highest sta- 
tions; — we have seen them falling into habits of 
intemperance, gambling, fraud, lewdness, or some 
other degrading moral delinquency; gradually losing 
their reputation; losing their own self-respect; and 
either consigned by their vices to premature graves, 
or sunk, through the whole of their course, into 
wretchedness and infamy. When you think of 
such misguided and ruined youth, you may be 
ready to think and to say, that you can rely on 
your own resolution to guard against such a ruin- 
ous course. But all confidence in any thing except 
religion to preserve you from such courses, is falla- 
cious and vain. And by religion here I do not 
mean merely a profession of religion; for that will 
be no effectual safeguard to any one; we have 
seen professors, of more than ordinary apparent 
zeal, disgrace themselves and the name by which 
they were called. But I mean the possession of 
real practical religion — the religion of the heart. 
This is a real security. This will hold its possessor 
firmly and safely; and amidst all the storms of life, 
preserve from fatal shipwreck. We shall never 
hear of such a young man that he has died a 
drunkard; or that he has been detected in base, 



RELIGION. - 97 

mean, or swindling practices; or that he has be- 
come the companion of gamblers and blacklegs; 
or that he has murdered some acquaintance, or 
been murdered himself in a duel; or that he has 
been embarrassed and degraded by some licentious 
connection. No, we shall hear no such tidings of 
any such youth. He may not be rich; though he 
will be more likely to succeed in his temporal 
affairs then than any other person. He may not 
be crowned with a large amount of worldly hon- 
our; though the probability is that he will be more 
successful in this respect also than the most of those 
who are destitute of religious principle. But he 
will be happy while he does live. He will be re- 
spected and beloved and useful. His latter end will 
be peace; and his name will be embalmed in the 
memory of the wise and the good, while the name 
of the wicked shall rot. 

Further, true religion is the only adequate com- 
forter under the sorrows and trials of life. These 
will come, in a greater or less degree, to all. The 
sanguine young man may, indeed, imagine, in the 
buoyancy of his hopes, that he shall never see sor- 
row; but that health, affluence, and pleasure shall 
mark his whole course. But if he " see many days, 
and rejoice in them all, let him remember the days 
of darkness, for they shall be many." There will 
be seasons of gloom and adversity to the most 
favoured. In those seasons where will be your 
9 



98 RELIGION. 

refuge? Happy are those who when the world 
frowns, when dangers threaten, when health gives 
way, when disappointments arise, can look up to a 
reconciled God and Father; can go to a throne of 
grace, and there leave every interest in the hands 
of infinite Wisdom and Goodness! It has been my 
happiness to see such young men; to see them 
adorning and enjoying the college to which you 
belong; and the recollection of the noble spirit and 
character which they presented, is now refreshing 
to the mind, especially when contrasted with the 
timidity, the weakness, and the comfortless charac- 
ter of the frivolous throng around them in circum- 
stances of similar trial. Montesquieu might well 
say, " How admirable is that religion which, while 
it seems only to have in view the felicity of another 
world, constitutes the happiness of the present!" 
Sir Humphry Davy, born in poverty ,and in an 
obscure corner of England, wasraised by industry 
and merit, unaided by friends, to such distinction, 
that he was chosen at the age of twenty-two, to fill 
the chair of chemistry in the " Royal Institution" 
of London. A few years afterwards he was elected 
President of the " Royal Society" of London, and 
stood, confessedly, at the head of the chemists of 
Europe. His testimony in favour of the consola- 
tions of religion is of the following decisive charac- 
ter. " I envy," says he, " no quality of the mind or 
intellect in others; not genius, power, wit or fancy; 



RELIGION. 99 

• 

but if I could choose what would be most delight- 
ful, and, I believe, most useful to me, I should pre- 
fer a firm religious belief to every other blessing; 
for it makes life a discipline of goodness; — creates 
new hopes when all earthly hopes vanish; — throws 
over the decay, the destruction of existence the 
most precious of all lights; — awakens life even in 
death, and from corruption and decay calls up 
beauty and divinity; — makes an instrument of tor- 
ture and shame the ladder of ascent to paradise; — 
and, far above all combinations of earthly hopes, 
calls up the most delightful visions of palms and 
amaranths, the gardens of the blessed, the security 
of everlasting joys, when the sensualist and the 
sceptic see only gloom, decay and annihilation." 
His last work — "Consolations in Travel," still 
more fully developes his highly interesting senti- 
ments on this subject.* 

Finally; true religion is the only preparation 
and security for future and eternal blessedness. 
Can any thinking being, however young and buoy- 
ant in spirit, forget that he is soon to die, and bid 
farewell to all that he values here below; and that 
this event may take place before he has passed the 
age of adolescence? And that, of course, the inter- 
ests of eternity are infinitely the most momentous? 
What is the body to the soul? What are all the 

* See Memoir of Sir H. Davy. 



100 RELIGION. 

transient joys of earth to the everlasting treasures 
of heaven? For those treasures and joys you can 
never be prepared unless you have a taste and 
relish for them. Even if a holy God had not de- 
clared in his word, that "without holiness no man 
can see the Lord/' the nature of the case would 
pronounce the same decision. No one can be 
happy but in his appropriate element. To imagine 
that any one can reach and enjoy a holy heaven, 
without some degree of meetness for the society 
and employments of that blessed world, is, of 
all delusions, one of the most preposterous and 
miserable. Our title to heaven is, as you have 
heard, what the Saviour has done and suffered for 
us as our surety. But our indispensable prepara- 
tion for heaven is that renewal of our nature by 
the Holy Spirit which renders the presence and 
glory of God delightful to the soul. He who re- 
mains under the power of that carnal mind which 
is enmity against God, can be happy nowhere in 
the universe. Even if he could overleap the walls 
of the celestial paradise, it would be no heaven to 
him. He would still be constrained with anguish 
to say, — "where'er I go is hell, myself am hell!" 
These considerations, I have no doubt, will con- 
vince, have convinced, your judgment that religion 
is worthy of your supreme regard. Its claims are 
so obviously reasonable and powerful, that they 
can never be resisted by sober reasoning. But 



RELIGION. 101 

there is no delusion more common than that which 
tempts the young to postpone all attention to this 
subject to a future period. Knowing its importance, 
but " having no heart for it" at present, they are 
ready, from day to day, to say to the serious moni- 
tor — " go thy way for this time, when I have a 
more convenient season 1 will call for thee." Let 
me warn you against this procrastinating spirit by 
which so many have been deceived and ruined. 
If religion be so precious as a guide, as a comforter, 
as a pledge of temporal prosperity and enjoyment, 
and as the indispensable means of eternal happi- 
ness — can you begin too soon to enjoy its benefits? 
If " the ways of wisdom are ways of pleasantness, 
and all her paths peace," is it wise to say, "Let 
me put off the attainment of this happiness to a 
future period?" Surely the sooner you begin to 
enjoy advantages so radical and precious the bet- 
ter. Besides; have you any assurance that you 
will live to that age, or to see that concurrence of 
circumstances which you fondly imagine will be 
more favourable to engaging in a life of piety than 
the present time? Not long since, a graduate of 
one of our colleges was heard to say— "I have 
finished my college education. I will now devote 
two years to the study of a profession; and then I 
will take one year to see what there is in that 
mighty thing they call religion." So calculated 
this blooming sanguine youth. But before the 



102 RELIGION. 

time specified had half elapsed, he suddenly fell 
sick; was seized with delirium; and expired with- 
out hope. But why need 1 resort to the case of 
one with whom you had no personal acquaintance? 
Can you forget your own beloved brothers and sis- 
ters, removed in the morning of life; one of whom 
was cut down in a few weeks after his graduation, 
and when he was just entering on a course of pro- 
fessional study; and another at a still earlier stage 
of his education? What security have you that 
you will live to see another year? And even if 
you could be certain of living to old age, what 
reason have you to hope, if you go on neglecting 
religion, and hardening yourselves against its 
claims, that you will have grace given you, even 
in the decline of life, io "consider your ways?" 
how many who were in youth thoughtful and ten- 
der, have become more and more callous to every 
serious impression, as they advanced in life; and 
have at length, sunk into the grave as destitute of 
hope as ever! Be entreated, then, my dear sons, 
now, while your hearts are comparatively tender; 
before the cares of the world have entwined around 
them a thousand entanglements; before you be- 
come hardened by inveterate habits of sin; be en- 
treated to make choice of " that good part which 
can never be taken away from you." 

I wish it were in my power, my beloved sons, to 
impart to you such views of this subject, as I am 



RELIGION. 103 

sure an enlightened attention to facts could not fail 
to give. Take up a college catalogue. it is a 
most instructive pamphlet! It affords a lively 
comment on all that I have told you about the un- 
certainty of life, and the folly of delaying to enter 
on the duties of true religion. Take it up, and 
look at the asterisk— that mournful-mark of death 
which stands opposite to the names of so many 
who received the honours of your college, within 
your own recollection. How some of them died, I 
am not able to tell you; but others departed, 
lamenting that they had not made more and earlier 
preparation for a dying hour, and that their time 
had been so much given to the vanities of the 
world. Will you not profit by such painful ex- 
amples? " that you were wise, that you under- 
stood these things, that you would consider your 
latter end!" 

If you ask me, how that piety which is repre- 
sented as so important, is to be attained? I answer, 
it is not the spontaneous growth of our nature. It 
is that to which we are naturally averse. It is the 
gift of God; and to be sought in the diligent use of 
those means which God has appointed for drawing 
near to him. The royal Psalmist asks— "Where- 
with shall a young man cleanse his way?" And 
his answer is, « By taking heed thereto according 
to thy word." That is, it requires sincere and 
solemn application of mind to the subject, without 



104 RELIGION. 

which no one has a right to hope that he shal. 
make the attainment. 

The diligent perusal of the Word of God is one 
of the most obvious and important of the means 
of grace. The Bible was given us to be " a light 
to our feet, and a lamp to our path." It exhibits, 
with unerring fidelity, every enemy, every snare, 
every danger which beset your path. It gives all 
the information, all the warning, all the caution, 
and all the encouragement which you need. It 
tells you, more perfectly than any other book, all 
that you have to fear, and all that you have to 
hope for. There is not a form of error or of cor- 
ruption against which it does not put you on your 
guard; not an excellence or a duty which it does 
not direct you to cultivate and attain. No one ever 
made this holy book the guide of his life, without 
walking wisely, safely and happily; without find- 
ing the truest enjoyment in this world, and eternal 
blessedness in the world to come. 

But this is not all. The Bible is not only the 
word of life. It is not only that wonderful book 
which was sent from heaven to show us the way of 
salvation: it not only contains the glad tidings 
of pardon, and peace, and love, and glory to a 
lost world; and is, of course, worthy of the most 
grateful reception, and the most diligent and rever- 
ential study; but there is, besides, something in it 
which it becomes every aspirant to literary reputa- 



RELIGION. 105 

tion duly to appreciate. It is full of the noblest 
specimens of literary beauty, and of tender, pa- 
thetic eloquence, that the world ever saw. There 
is something in it better adapted to touch the finest 
and best cords of human sensibility, to reach and 
sway the heart, than the most laboured products of 
rhetoric that the skill of man ever formed. I have 
known more than one case in which secular ora- 
tors have drawn from the figures and the language 
of the Bible their mightiest weapons, both for con- 
vincing the judgment, and captivating the hearts of 
their hearers; and am persuaded that he who does 
not study his Bible, as well as his secular authori- 
ties, in preparing for public life, neglects a very 
important part of his education. 

And in reading the Bible, I hope you will not 
forget that it is to be read with feelings and in a 
manner very different from those with which you 
peruse all other books. If it be indeed inspired of 
God, and given to teach us the way of salvation, it 
surely ought to be read with serious and fixed 
attention; with unwearied diligence; — with deep 
humility; with candid application to your own 
heart and conscience; and with devout application 
to the throne of grace, that you may be enabled to 
read it with understanding and with profit. Hap- 
py, thrice happy, is that youth who learns to go to 
the Bible for all his sentiments, principles, and 
rules of action; who searches its sacred pages daily 



106 RELIGION. 

for direction in his pursuits, for guidance in his per- 
plexities, for comfort in his sorrows, and for help in 
every time of need. Such have the best pledge of 
temporal enjoyment, and of eternal blessedness. 

Another important means by which you ought 
to seek the favour and image of God is prayer. 
Need I dwell either on the duty or the reasonable- 
ness of this exercise? If we are entirely dependent 
on God for every temporal and spiritual blessing, 
then it is surely reasonable that we should acknow- 
ledge our dependence, and apply to him with hu- 
mility and earnestness for his aid. If his favour is 
life, and his blessings the best riches, it is evident 
that we ought to supplicate them with importunity 
and perseverance. If we are sinners, unworthy of 
the Divine favour, we ought to humble ourselves 
at his footstool, and make confession of our sins 
with penitence, and a sincere desire to do better in 
time to come. If he has revealed a plan of mercy 
and grace to us, of which he invites and commands 
us to avail ourselves, then every principle of self- 
interest concurs with reason in urging us to seek 
with earnestness a participation in that mercy. 
And if our Maker and Redeemer has, in so many 
words commanded us " by prayer and supplication 
with thanksgiving, to make known our requests to 
God," who can question, for a moment, the reason- 
ableness of a compliance with that command? 

I am afraid that many a youth who has been 



RELIGION. 107 

taught from his childhood to fear God, would be 
ashamed to be seen bowing his knees in secret be- 
fore that Being whom his parents supremely love 
and venerate, and by whom he has been himself 
protected and sustained ever since he was born. 
Can it be necessary for me to demonstrate to you 
that this is a shame as foolish, as infatuated as it is 
criminal? Ashamed of acknowledging your Maker, 
your Sovereign, your constant Benefactor, who 
alone can make you happy, either in this world, or 
the world to come! what insanity is here! It is 
to be ashamed of your true glory. A shame the 
folly and infatuation of which can be equalled only 
by that which is manifested by the old as well as 
the young, viz. "glorying in their shame." 

Yon will have no good reason to expect the 
blessing of God on your persons, your studies, or 
any of your interests, without feeling your need of 
that blessing, and importunately asking for it. Let 
no day, then, pass without at least two seasons of 
prayer. When you rise in the morning, implore 
the guidance and benediction of heaven on all the 
employments and privileges of the day; for you 
know not what may occur to disturb your peace, 
or endanger your character or improvement. And 
when you retire to rest at night, ask for the protec- 
tion and blessing of Him who neither slumbereth 
nor sleepeth, over the repose of the night-watches. 
Nor are these the only proper objects of petition. 



108 RELIGION. 

Pray for your instructors; that they may be aided 
in their official work, and rewarded for all their 
labours of love. Pray for your fellow students; 
that they may be imbued with a love of know- 
ledge, with a love of order, and with all those 
fraternal and honourable dispositions which may 
render their society profitable and happy. Rely on 
it, the more you pray, the happier you will be. 
The more you make all around you the objects of 
your benevolent petitions, the more pleasant and 
profitable will be all your intercourse with them. 

As another important means of grace, make a 
point of attending on the public worship of God, 
on every Lord's day, as well as on every other 
occasion when you have an opportunity so to do. 
Let no pretext for absenting yourselves from the 
house of God ever be admitted. On the one hand, 
those who habitually neglect it, manifest a spirit 
of disregard to the divine authority, which indicates 
a spirit most unpromising in regard to their spi- 
ritual interest. While, on the other hand, those 
who make conscience of being present with the 
people of God whenever they are assembled, mani- 
fest a reverence for his name and his worship 
which we have reason to hope will issue in their 
happy preparation for his kingdom. 

Let me further recommend that you be in the 
habit of statedly setting apart seasons of retire- 
ment, meditation, and self examination, in regard 



RELIGION. 109 

to your spiritual interest. I once heard of a young 
man who was remarkably thoughtless and dissi- 
pated, whose father, in his last will bequeathed to 
him a large estate, on condition that he would, for 
so many years, spend half an hour every morning 
by himself, in serious reflection. The young man, 
in obedience to this injunction, began a compliance 
with it. At first it was a most unwelcome task to 
which he forced himself as a means of holding his 
property. He soon submitted to it with less and 
less reluctance, until at length he adhered to it of 
choice, and became a truly virtuous and pious man. 
The only other means of attaining the know- 
ledge and love of God which I shall urge, is the 
reverential observance of the holy Sabbath. As 
the consecration of this day to rest from secular 
labours, and to the service of God, is one of the 
most important means of keeping the world in 
order, and maintaining the reign of religion among 
men; so the profanation of this day, is one of those 
sins which tend pre-eminently to banish religious 
sentiments from the mind, and to draw down the 
curse of heaven, both on individuals and society. 
There can be little hope either of the success or the 
happiness of that individual or that community 
who habitually trample on that day which God 
has set apart for himself. The celebrated Lord 
Chief Justice Hale, equally distinguished as a jurist 
and a Christian, has left on record, " that he never 
10 



110 RELIGION. 

prospered in any secular employment, unless it were 
a work of necessity or mercy, undertaken on the 
sabbath; and, on the contrary, that the more closely 
he applied himself to the appropriate duties of that 
holy day, the more happy and successful were all 
the business and employments of the week follow- 
ing." The same, I am persuaded, will be the ex- 
perience of every one who pays attention enough 
to this subject to mark the facts which occur in his 
own case. If, therefore, I were to hear that you 
were in the habit of pursuing your ordinary studies 
on the sabbath, or of engaging in the secular 
amusements in which many profanely indulge on 
that day, I should expect to hear little good either 
of your moral or religious character, and should 
have little hope of your ultimate success even in 
your intellectual pursuits. Rely upon it, you will 
never gain by robbing God, or by profaning any of 
his institutions. 

My dear sons, consider these things. The bless- 
ing of God is the best riches, and he addeth no sor- 
row with it. That blessing can never be expected 
unless you sincerely seek and attain true religion. 
"It is, therefore, not a vain thing for you; it is your 
life." Upon this hangs every thing precious, every 
thing truly valuable for both worlds. There have, 
indeed, been instances of men who had no religion 
enjoying much temporal aggrandizement, and no 
small degree of honour among men. But how 



RELIGION. Ill 

much happier would they have been, and how- 
much more solid honour and confidence might they 
have enjoyed, had they been sincere Christians, 
living habitually under the influence, and enjoying 
the consolations of the gospel of Christ! Sir Wal- 
ter Scott, and even the cold-blooded infidel, Byron, 
each attained a distinction in his day, which many 
a youth has been tempted to envy. But was 
either of them a happy man? Especially was not 
the author of "Childe Harold" regarded by every 
sober-minded contemporary as, with all his talents, 
no better than a fiend incarnate. And when we 
come to the death-bed of both, what do we see but 
the absence of that hope and comfort which every 
wise man desires to enjoy in his last hour? 

My dearly beloved sons! You must, one day, 
be serious, whether you will or not. At present 
the vanities of the world may absorb your atten- 
tion, and hide more important objects from your 
view. But, be assured, the time is approaching 
when you will see things in a very different light. 
The fashion of this world is rapidly passing away. 
Scenes untried and awful are about to open before 
you. Death, judgment and eternity are hastening 
on apace. Then, when the sources of earthly 
comfort are dried up; when heart and flesh begin 
to fail; when you are about to bid an everlasting 
farewell to this world, and all its vanities; then, if 
not before, you will certainly lament the want of 



112 RELIGION. 

sober consideration. Then, if not before, you will 
cry out in the bitterness of remorse, " that I had 
been wise, that I had thought of this, that I had 
considered my latter end!" Here, then, I must 
leave you, " commending you to God, and to the 
word of his grace, which is able to enlighten your 
minds; to give you an heart to serve him; and to 
prepare you for an inheritance amongst all them 
that are sanctified." 



113 



LETTER VI. 

REBELLIONS. 

Ars cujus principium est mentiri, medium laborare, finis poenitere. 

Anon. 

Facilis descensus Averni; 

Sed revocare gradum, 



Hoc opus, hie labor est. JEneid, VI. 126. 

My Dear Sons, 

Though you have never been witnesses of one 
of those grand rebellions of which the history of 
our college has furnished some examples, yet you 
have seen enough of the elements and the incep- 
tive workings of such insanity, to form a tolerable 
estimate of its real character. And I think I may 
venture to say, that the more you have seen of the 
causes and spirit of such lawless outbreakings, the 
less you have respected them, and the more you 
have been disposed to contemplate their fomentors 
and their conductors with mingled feelings of con- 
tempt and abhorrence. And I can assure you, my 
dear sons, if it were possible to impart to you the 
10* 



114 REBELLIONS. 

more intimate knowledge that I have had of the 
commencement, the history and the termination of 
all such scenes as have occurred in the college with 
which you are connected, within the last forty 
years, your impressions of their folly and wicked- 
ness would be still deeper and more abhorrent. 

Few things are more adapted to show both the 
infatuation and the atrocity of rebellions in college, 
than recurring to the origin of most of them. A 
great majority of them arise from a desire on the 
part of students, otherwise orderly, to shield from 
merited discipline the corrupt and profligate of 
their fellows. A few, perhaps, of the unprincipled 
and habitually disorderly students have justly in- 
curred the infliction of severe discipline — suspension 
— or expulsion from the institution. The delin- 
quents have, it may be, some talents, much im- 
pudence—and that desperate recklessness which 
makes them anxious, if they must go, to have com- 
panions both in crime and in suffering. A number 
of their fellow students — perhaps a large number 
— are fools enough to be made the dupes of these 
profligates; to make a common cause with them; 
and to resolve to share their fate. The conse- 
quence is, that they do share their fate. All that 
belong to the combination are sent away from col- 
lege; and are so far from gaining the end for which 
they combined, that the result is permanent and 
hopeless disgrace-. Such is the usual history, and 



REBELLIONS. 115 

such the invariable result of college rebellions. In 
a few instances the loss of life, either to some of 
the rebels, or of the faculty, has been the deplora- 
ble consequence. 

Now, in this whole matter, there is an amount 
of complicated folly and wickedness which it is not 
easy to measure. For, in the first place, as to the 
original offenders, in whose behalf all this mischief 
has been perpetrated, they are commonly profligate 
villains, who ought not to belong to any decent in- 
stitution, and whose defence, in any form, is in- 
famy; villains, who, instead of being undeservedly 
or too hastily visited with discipline, ought perhaps, 
long before to have been sent off in disgrace. In 
the second place, every step taken by this combina- 
tion is a high-handed and peculiarly criminal opposi- 
tion, not only to the laws which its members are 
bound to obey, but to a faculty, as it were, in mass, 
who are labouring day and night to promote their 
welfare, and who are individually and collectively 
distressed by the insubordination. And in the third 
place, it is an act of wanton and voluntary suicide. 
Those who combine and make a common cause 
with the original delinquents, plunge into the gulf, 
for the sake of those who have neither generosity 
nor honesty enough to thank them for the sacrifice, 
and thus, perhaps, destroy all their own prospects 
for life, besides inflicting a wound on the hearts 



116 REBELLIONS. 

of parents or guardians which can never be healed 
on this side of the grave. 

Nor is this all. No one can tell, when he con- 
nects himself with a scene of this kind, but that it 
may terminate, as was before intimated, in the loss 
of life. Many months have not elapsed, since, in 
a rebellion which took place in the university of 
a neighbouring state, a beloved and highly valued 
professor lost his life by the murderous hand of a 
profligate student: and how often the most valuable 
lives have been put in imminent danger in similar 
scenes of insubordination and violence, he who is 
even tolerably acquainted with their history well 
knows. How infatuated, then, as well as criminal, 
must be that youth who allows himself to engage 
in a plan of resistance to lawful authority, which 
he cannot but know may terminate in the destruc- 
tion of his own life, or in that of one or more other 
individuals, a thousand times more precious to their 
friends and to the community than his own! 

The following statement, perfectly in point, can- 
not fail of commanding the most respectful consi- 
deration from every reader who knows the high 
character of the writer, and who recollects that he 
speaks on this subject from the most ample expe- 
rience. The venerable writer speaking of himself, 
says: — 

" At the age of seventeen, he left, for the first 
time, the house of the best of mothers, to go to 



REBELLIONS. 117 

Princeton College; and with the sincerest resolution 
to fulfil all her anxious wishes in his behalf. To- 
wards the close of the first session, some very- 
unworthy young men were dismissed. They con- 
trived, however, to impose upon the great body of 
the others, and to induce them to believe that they 
were most unjustly and cruelly treated. What 
was called a petition was gotten up in their behalf, 
and offered for the signatures of the rest. Great 
numbers signed it, scarce knowing its contents. It 
proved to be such a one as the faculty could not 
with propriety listen to, or allow to pass unnoticed. 
We were required to withdraw our signatures; and 
it was so managed by the leaders of the rebellion, 
that the college was broken up in confusion, and 
all returned home. It was then that I felt the ex- 
cellence of maternal authority, which great num- 
bers felt not, for they did not return. My excellent 
mother, though mild, yet firm, as she was wont to 
be, bade me go back, and make atonement for the 
evil committed. And I went, and confessed my 
fault, and still live, to exhort other parents, and 
other sons to i go and do likewise.' As a warning 
to the young men of our land, let me say, that it 
required nearly thirty years to repair the injury 
done to that institution, by that proceeding of un- 
reflecting and misguided youths. Let me warn 
them to beware how they ever assemble together 
for the purpose of consulting how to redress the 



118 REBELLIONS. 

supposed wrongs of their fellow students; and, 
above all, how they set their names to any instru- 
ment purporting to be a condemnation of those in 
authority. Very seldom, indeed, will the Faculty 
mistake in their judgments concerning those who 
are the subjects of discipline. All of those for 
whom the petition alluded to was offered, proved 
to be most unworthy characters; and in my many 
and extensive journeys, throughout the length and 
breadth of our land, since that time, I have met 
with very many of those who were most zealous 
in the cause, but never loith one who did not con- 
demn and regret the part which he had taken in 
it."* 

Such is the faithful testimony of an eye and ear 
witness, nay of a deep temporary partaker in the 
evil deplored. I also,- though never, at any period 
of my college course, a participant in such a scene, 
can bear testimony equally explicit, and to the 
same amount. My observation, in all cases, goes 
to establish the following points: 

1. I have never known the rebels to carry their 
point; that is, I have never known an instance in 
which they gained the object for ivhich they com- 
bined. One of the laws of our college is in the fol- 
lowing words: 

* " Religious Education" a tract by the Right Rev. William 
Meade, Bishop of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the diocese 
of Virginia. 



REBELLIONS. 119 

" If any clubs or combinations of the students 
shall at any time take place, either for resisting the 
authority of the college, interfering in its govern- 
ment, or for executing or concealing any evil or 
disorderly design, every student concerned in such 
combination, shall be considered as guilty of the 
offence which was intended; and the faculty are 
empowered and directed to break up all such com- 
binations as soon as discovered, and to inflict a 
severer punishment on each individual than if the 
offence intended had been committed in his indivi- 
dual capacity, whatever may be the number con- 
cerned, or whatever may be the consequence to the 
college." 

This law, as far as my knowledge extends, has 
been uniformly acted upon in our college. In two 
instances, within my recollection, it became neces- 
sary to disband the entire body of the students. 
But the rebels always went home without attain- 
ing their object. 

2. In almost all cases — indeed I remember no 
real exception — the leading rebels turned out not 
only unworthy, but profligate, degraded and miser- 
able. The proud contrivers and chief conductors 
of insurrection against college authority, may glut 
their diabolical vengeance; may give much trouble 
to those whom they dislike; may destroy much 
property; nay, may destroy life. But one thing is 
certain— their own infamy is hopelessly sealed. 



120 REBELLIONS. 

Their career generally shows that the frowns of 
man, and the curse of God rest upon them without 
remedy. If I could but give you the simple un- 
varnished history of a few of these mock heroes, 
after the catastrophe which led to their expulsion 
from college, it would stand in the place of a thou- 
sand arguments against all such wicked and insane 
projects. 

3. I can also verify the statement of Bishop 
Meade, that I have never known any student who 
had the remotest connection with any rebellious 
combination, who did not afterwards deeply regret 
his conduct, and condemn himself for it without 
reserve. 

4. Had you been trustees of our college as long 
as I have been (now between thirty and forty 
years) you would have been witnesses of some of 
the most painful conflicts, connected with this sub- 
ject, which can well be encountered by men who 
have a paternal feeling for the welfare of youth. 
Young men who had suffered themselves to par- 
take in the unlawful and disorganizing combina- 
tions which have been described, and had been 
subjected to the sentence of expulsion from the col- 
lege, have returned, after the lapse of twenty years 
and more, and earnestly requested — not indeed to 
be received again as students — but to have the sen- 
tence of expulsion revoked, and the painful record 
of their disgrace borne by the college records obli- 



REBELLIONS. 121 

terated. You may well suppose that a board made 
up of serious benevolent men, ready to take every 
obstacle which they conscientiously could out of 
the way of a returning penitent, would feel no lit- 
tle pain in denying such a request from one who 
appeared to come with a proper spirit, and who 
had done all he could to atone for his crime by the 
sober and exemplary living of many years. But 
it was impossible to comply with such a request. 
As well might a man who had been convicted of 
theft or forgery, by a court of justice, twenty years 
ago, but had ever since, after suffering the penalty 
of the law, manifested a penitent and blameless life 
— come and ask the court to revoke its sentence, 
and expunge its record of his crime and conviction. 
The reply of Chief Justice Hale, when importuned 
to have mercy on a weeping culprit, was a just 
and noble one — "While I wish to show mercy to 
him, I feel bound also to have mercy on my coun- 
try." What would become of a college which 
should consent thus to reverse her sentences, and 
whitewash the traitors who had striven to destroy 
her? Her authority would soon be despised, and 
her discipline a nullity. " The way of transgressors 
is indeed hard," and one of the many proofs of this 
is, that from the bitter consequences of many sins 
the culprits can never escape. The grave may hide 
their bodies from view; but the memory of their 
It 



122 REBELLIONS. 

crimes and their shame will be as imperishable as 
the records of justice can make them. 

You are now, I trust, my dear sons, after pon- 
dering on what has been said on this subject, in 
some measure prepared to receive and profit by the 
paternal counsels which naturally flow from the 
foregoing considerations. They are these: 

1. Always take for granted that the faculty are 
right in their requisitions and in their discipline. 
They are commonly better informed than any one 
of the students, perhaps than all of them put to- 
gether. They are far better judges than the stu- 
dents can be, as to what is safe and proper, and 
tends to the real good of the institution. They are 
far more impartial than the subjects of discipline 
are likely to be. And they are incomparably more 
attached to the interests of the college, than you or 
any other student. It will, therefore, be, on every 
account, safest and wisest always to take for granted 
as a matter of course, that they are right; and that 
you have nothing to do but to obey. The excep- 
tions to this fixed principle will ever be found so 
" few and far between," that it may be safely as- 
sumed as a maxim that will seldom fail. 

2. Never listen to the complaints or the accusa- 
tions of such of your fellow students as have been 
visited with the lash of discipline. You may rest 
assured that nothing of this kind comes upon any 
young man without a cause. Turn away from his 



REBELLIONS. 123 

story. Encourage him not. Allow him not for 
one moment to imagine that he has gained either 
your confidence or your approbation. 

3. Never attend any meeting of students called 
to petition for a redress of grievances at the hand 
of the faculty, unless it be, with dignified indepen- 
dence, to remonstrate in toto, and on principle, 
against the measure. A redress of grievances, if 
such really exist, will be much more likely to be 
obtained by the private application of a few orderly 
students, than by a public and noisy combination. 
Put your name to no paper creating or encouraging 
any such combination. It may appear harmless 
and even commendable at first; but you know not 
to what it may grow. " The beginning of evil is 
like the letting out of water." That which ap- 
peared in the commencement a small and perfectly 
manageable rill, may soon become an overwhelm- 
ing torrent, and bear away all before it. 

4. Never let it be borne to future times by the 
records of Nassau Hall, that a son of your parents 
had affixed to his name and to theirs the stigma, 
that he had risen in rebellion against his Alma 
Mater, and had suffered the only capital punish- 
ment which a treason so base could incur — expul- 
sion. 

There are, no doubt, other sources and forms of 
rebellion than those which have been specified; but 
they may all be reduced to the same general prin- 



124 REBELLIONS. 

ciples, and may all with propriety be treated in the 
same general manner. Sometimes they originate 
in dissatisfaction with the diet in the public refec- 
tory; sometimes from the extent of the lessons 
assigned to the several classes; and again, at other 
times, from the refusal of some solicited privilege 
or indulgence. Now it would be wrong to assert 
that the faculty of any college is infallible, or that 
either their interdicts or their prescriptions are al- 
ways, of course, to be considered as right. But 
the fact is, that, even if, from error in judgment, 
they should sometimes happen to be wrong, it is a 
much smaller evil, in practice, to assume that in 
any given case they are right, and to decide and 
act accordingly, than to allow the students to sit 
in judgment upon their decisions and doings, and 
thus to be judges and jurymen in their own cause. 
The most learned and conscientious jurists presid- 
ing in a civil court, may decide erroneously. But 
suppose they do, what is the appropriate remedy? 
To raise a mob in the court-house; to explode gun- 
powder among the multitude, at the risk of life; 
and to destroy the chairs, tables, and other furni- 
ture of the building? Would any of these either 
rectify the error in question, or promote the cause 
of substantia] justice? The very suggestion of such 
a method of redress is at once contemptible and 
shocking; and those who should resort to it, would 
be deemed a set of silly infatuated savages. If the 



REBELLIONS. 125 

decision complained of is to be reversed, the rever- 
sal is to be obtained by other and more peaceable 
measures. All the violence tends but to mischief, 
and must be severely punished, or there will be an 
end of order and of justice. 

Precisely such are the principles which ought to 
be laid down concerning the decisions of a college 
faculty. They are probably right; but, whether 
right or wrong, the very worst judges in the case 
are the rash, inexperienced, and headstrong sub- 
jects of discipline. If every wayward child is per- 
mitted to review and reverse the sentences of wise 
and faithful parents, it is plain that domestic 
government and order will soon cease, and all par- 
ties be less safe and less happy. If unwise or 
oppressive measures on the part of the immediate 
government of a college are supposed by the re- 
flecting and orderly portion of the pupils to exist, 
the only measures which ought to be thought of 
are two; one, to send a small and respectful com- 
mittee, made up of two or three of the students 
known to be among the most respected and con- 
fided in by the faculty, to present the humble 
statement and request of the whole body; and if 
this be not successful, the second step should be to 
appeal to the board of trustees. If by neither of 
these methods the object of the complainants can 
be obtained, the presumption is, either, that the 
evils complained of are imaginary, or that, for the 
11* 



126 REBELLIONS. 

time being, they do not admit of a remedy. I 
have no recollection of any case in which an ap- 
peal to the board of trustees was followed with 
success to the appellants. The truth is, the faculty 
of every college are always under the temptation 
to go as far as they possibly can, consistently with 
duty, to gratify the students. Their own popu- 
larity and ease will, of course, in ordinary cases, 
induce to this. Seldom indeed will a calm and 
impartial body of guardians, having nothing to do 
with immediate instruction, lean more than they to 
the side of indulgence. 

There is a species of conduct on the part of 
students which sometimes occurs, which may, per- 
haps, be as appropriately mentioned in this letter 
as in any other. I refer to the case of those stu- 
dents who, in their own estimation, and in that of 
their friends, are considered as having high claims 
to distinguished rank in the assignment of college 
honours: and when honours adequate to their 
expectations are not awarded to them, undertake 
to resent it as gross injustice, and either attempt to 
excite a mutiny in their behalf, or decline to re- 
ceive the honour assigned them, and perhaps even 
refuse to speak at all at the ensuing commence- 
ment, and forfeit their graduation altogether. 
There is in all this an arrogance and presumption 
unworthy of young gentlemen approaching the age 
of manhood. Who are the best judges of a student's 



REBELLIONS. 127 

proper merits and rank — himself, or the faculty, 
who have been watching over him, and labouring 
with him for years? It is very possible, indeed, 
that a faculty may be guilty of great injustice in 
this matter. From some cause, and perhaps not a 
very laudable one, they may award to a candidate 
for graduation a rank decisively below that to 
which he is fairly entitled. But what then? Is he 
or the faculty the regularly constituted judge in the 
case? Every one knows it is the faculty. Will he 
be likely, then, to gain any thing by resenting their 
award, or refusing to submit to it? I will not ven- 
ture to pronounce that no degree of injustice can 
warrant a student in refusing to submit to it. But I 
have no recollection of having ever known such a 
case. Amidst all the instances of insubordinate 
conduct on such occasions which have come to my 
knowledge, I have never known one case in which 
the student who adopted this course gained any 
advantage by it. They have, in every case, lost 
the object which they sought, and been regarded 
by all their enlightened and impartial friends as 
acting an unwise part. 



128 



LETTER VII. 

HEALTH. 

" Non est vivere, sed valere vita." 

My Dear Sons, 

I need not say a word to you of the value of 
health. All know it. All acknowledge it. If I 
were to attempt formally to prove it, you would 
consider me as undertaking a needless task. And 
yet a large portion of mankind, and especially of 
the young, appear to be so unmindful of the value 
of this blessing, and so reckless of its preservation, 
that there is hardly any subject in regard to which 
unceasing lessons are more needed, or are given 
from time to time with less benefit. 

I once felt inclined to enter into cautions and 
counsels on this subject very much in detail; but a 
growing impression of the difficulty of doing jus- 
tice to it, and a fear of doing mischief by multiply- 
ing advices respecting it, induce me to be much 
more brief than I originally intended. All that I 
shall attempt is to give a few brief hints, which I 



HEALTH. 129 

hope will not be in vain; but which, at the same 
time, I fear you will not appreciate as you ought, 
until the unhappy consequences of rejecting them 
shall practically impress them on your minds. 

There are two extremes on this subject to which 
young men are prone; against both I am earnestly 
desirous of guarding you. The one is to imagine 
that the citidel of their health is impregnable; that 
no care of it is necessary; that they may take any 
liberties with it, and lay any burdens upon it that 
they please. This mistake leads to unlimited 
exposure, and an utter disregard of all care and 
caution in avoiding the sources of disease. Hence 
it has happened that some of the most Herculean 
young men I have ever known have been among 
the most short-lived; simply because they had so 
much confidence in their health and strength, and 
were so persuaded that they could bear any thing, 
that they took no care of themselves, until the 
finest constitutions were wrecked and destroyed. 
Some of the most striking examples of this have 
occurred not only in Nassau Hall, but also in the 
classes with which you are familiar; examples to 
which I cannot refer without the most mournful 
recollections. 

The other extreme to which I alluded is that of 
those who imagine that great scrupulousness of 
attention, and the most vigilant care of health, are 
necessary to its preservation: that a multitude of 



130 HEALTH. 

rigid cautions; a frequent resort to medicine; guard- 
ing against all exposure to cold and damp weather; 
close and warm rooms; much wrapping up, &c. 
&c. are indispensable. The young man who acts 
upon this plan, will probably soon render himself 
a miserable invalid for life, if he do not speedily 
cut short his days. The truth is, that in this, as in 
a thousand other things, we may err as much, and 
as fatally, in over-doing as in under-doing; and 
the path of wisdom is that of a happy medium 
between extremes. 

There are some general principles in the preser- 
vation of health, to which I am earnestly desirous 
of directing your attention, and which, when they 
are regarded with enlightened and discriminating 
care, may be considered as comprehending all 
others. Of these general principles I shall now 
trouble you with only four, viz.: — Be strictly 

TEMFERATE WITH REGARD TO ALIMENT. Take, 

every day, a large amount of gentle exercise. 
Carefully guard against all intestinal constipa- 
tion. And always avoid too much warmth, both 
in your clothing, and your apartment, quite as 
vigilantly as you do too much exposure to cold. 
1. With regard to the first, remember that tem- 
perate eating in you, is a very different thing from 
what it is in a day-labourer. The latter may, in 
common, safely, and even profitably, take two or 
three times the amount of aliment, that can be ven- 



HEALTH. 131 

tured upon by a student, or by any sedentary per- 
son. If a given portion of solid food be found to 
oppress you, gradually diminish the quantity, care- 
fully watching the effect, until you ascertain the 
quantity which is best suited to your constitution, 
and after taking which you feel most vigorous, 
active and comfortable, both in body and mind. It 
is plain that this matter can be regulated only by the 
individual himself; and that it requires daily watch- 
fulness and resolution. Many students, I have no 
doubt, injure their health, and some bring them- 
selves, I am persuaded, to premature graves, by 
over-eating, as really as others do by over-drinking. 
The effects of the former species of excess are not 
quite so manifest, or quite so disreputable, as those 
of the latter; but, in a multitude of cases, they are 
no less fatal. And especially ought this strict 
guard as to the quantity and quality of the aliment 
taken to be exercised by those who cannot be per- 
suaded to take the requisite amount of bodily exer- 
cise. To eat without restraint, while the latter is 
neglected, is perfect madness. The answer of Sir 
Charles Scarborough, physician to Charles II., to 
one of the courtiers of that monarch, is worthy of 
being remembered — " You must eat less, or take 
more exercise, or take physic, or be sick." This 
enlightened man, physician to a profligate king, 
and a no less profligate court, presented the only 
alternate plans by which the safety of our bodily 



132 HEALTH. 

condition can be secured. If I had a thousand 
voices, I would proclaim this response in every 
college, and to every studious young man in the 
land. However little it may be regarded, the diet 
of a student is of more importance than can easily 
be described. It ought always to be simple. 
Luxuries, and especially a multiplicity of artificial 
dishes, and the refinements of confectionary, ought 
to be avoided with sacred care. Dr. Franklin 
always lived on the simplest food, and with the 
strictest guard against every inordinate indulgence. 
We are also told that his habit was to go without 
his dinner one day in every week. This he called 
"giving nature a holyday;" that his stomach might 
not be injured by being kept too constantly at hard 
work. 

If at any time you feel unwell, stop eating until 
you are better. This was the practice of Bacon, 
of Napoleon, and of a host of other eminent men, 
with whose histories we are familiar. When they 
were attacked with feverish feelings, they either 
fasted strictly, for twenty-four, or even forty-eight 
hours; or, at any rate, took nothing but a few spoon- 
fuls of some simple liquid to sustain nature, and to 
allay the importunity of hunger, until their morbid 
sensations were removed. Few people are aware 
that, when they are sick, food does them little or 
no good, or rather only adds to the burden of the 
febrile affection. I have no doubt that a large por- 



HEALTH. 133 

tion of diseases, and especially of those which 
attack the youthful frame, where there is no mor- 
bid diathesis of a chronic character, would readily 
yield to a day or two of rigid fasting alone. It is 
because few people can endure the self-denial re- 
quisite for this purpose, that they prefer the removal 
of their ailments by the extemporaneous applica- 
tions of the lancet, or the stores of the materia 
medica. This is a very impolitic plan of proce- 
dure. It is violently interfering with the regular 
order of our frame, when the vis medicatrix na- 
turse, if left to itself, would do the work much 
better. These remarks are, of course, not intended 
to apply to cases of violent attacks of inflammatory 
disease, where congestion, or lesion in vital organs, 
indicated by much pain, is to be apprehended; but- 
chiefly to those cases in which obscure feverish 
feelings indicate the approach, rather than the deci- 
sive onset of disease. In cases which mark the 
approach, or the actual attack of acute disease, 
medical advice ought to be sought without loss of 
time. 

2. The importance of taking a large portion of 
gentle exercise every day, can scarcely be over- 
rated. Every student who wishes to preserve good 
health and spirits, ought to be moving about in the 
open air from three to four hours daily. You 
may live with less, and, possibly, enjoy tolerable 
health. But if you wish fully to possess the mens 
12 



134 HEALTH. 

mna in corpore sano, of which the Latin poet 
speaks, rely upon it, with most students, less will 
not answer. I have said that your exercise ought 
to be gentle. Some students, after exhausting 
themselves by a protracted period of severe study 
of some hours, start from their seats, issue forth, 
and engage in some violent exercise, which throws 
them into a profuse perspiration, from which they 
can scarcely escape with impunity. In many 
such cases, they had much better have continued 
to sit still. After coming to a pause in my exer- 
tion, and resuming my seat, I have found it diffi- 
cult to avoid taking cold, unless I would continue 
the perspiration, or the state of temperature ap- 
proaching it, by wrapping myself up in a cloak, 
and remaining so until the perspiration had entirely 
subsided. This is a precaution which is trouble- 
some, and will be submitted to by few. 

Your exercise ought to bear a strict proportion 
to your constitution and your habits. Gentle ex- 
ercise, diffused through three or four hours, is much 
better adapted to a sedentary man than a concen- 
tration of the same amount of muscular motion, 
within a single hour or less. It is also worthy of 
remark, that exercise taken either immediately 
before^ or immediately after eating, is both less 
comfortable, and less valuable, than if at least an 
hour of rest be suffered to intervene. No prudent 
traveller will feed his horse immediately after his 



HEALTH. 135 

arrival at the place of baiting; or, if he can avoid 
it, put him on the road again as soon as he has 
swallowed his food. The same principle applies 
to all animal nature. 

But there is a class of cases in regard to exercise 
to which a special reference ought to be made here. 
Sometimes young men come to college who have 
been accustomed to active, and, it may be, to 
laborious lives in the pure air of the country, and 
who commence study with firm and florid health. 
Scarcely any, in this situation, are fully aware of 
the danger they encounter in sitting down to close 
intellectual application. I have often known a 
constitution the most robust, suddenly to give way, 
in six or nine months after this change of habit, 
and become utterly broken and prostrated. The 
truth is, a young man of the most robust and florid 
health, who addresses himself suddenly to a season 
of close study, is more apt — contrary to the com- 
mon impression — far more apt to suffer severely 
from close mental and sedentary occupation, than 
one of a more lax fibre, and long accustomed to 
study. I can call to mind some of the most melan- 
choly examples of this fact, in which from not being 
apprised of the principle which it involves, the 
calamity came on almost with the suddenness and 
violence of a whirlwind, before the sufferers were 
aware. 

3. My third advice has a respect to intestinal 



136 HEALTH. 

constipation. There can be no health, where this 
is suffered long to continue. And yet it is a point 
to which few inexperienced students are as atten- 
tive as they ought to be. They either neglect it, 
until a decisive indisposition convinces them of 
their folly; or they are very frequently endeavour- 
ing to remove it by the use of medicine. Both 
methods of treating the difficulty are miserably ill- 
judged. Medicine ought to be the last resort; and 
is seldom necessary, unless where there has been 
great mismanagement. Gentle exercise, abstemi- 
ousness, and the judicious use of mild dietetical 
aperients, (which are different with different peo- 
ple, and must be matter of experiment,) form the 
system which a little experience will show you to 
be the best. If, instead of this course, you go on 
eating as usual, and adhere as closely to your seat 
as at other times, you will probably not escape a 
serious indisposition. 

4. The temperature of your room, and of your 
body, is the last of the general principles in refer- 
ence to health to which I shall request your atten- 
tion. A student, whose robustness is almost always 
in some degree impaired by sedentary habits, ought 
never to allow himself, if he can avoid it, to sit in 
a cold room, or in a current of cold air. I think I 
have known some young persons to contract fatal 
diseases by inadvertently allowing themselves to 
occupy such a situation even for a short time, 



HEALTH. 137 

especially when heated. But it is nearly, if not 
quite, as unfriendly to health, for a student to allow 
himself to be overheated, either by the atmosphere 
of a room excessively warmed, or by too great a 
load of clothing, either in bed or out of it. Every 
thing of this kind ought to be carefully avoided. 
So far as my own experience goes, I am con- 
strained to say, that excessive heat has been quite 
as often, to me, the source of disease, as excessive 
cold. He who is about to take a long walk, in the 
course of which he has an opportunity of keeping 
himself warm by constant, vigorous motion, ought 
just as carefully to avoid covering himself with an 
overcoat while his walk continues, as he ought to 
be to avoid sitting in a cold place, or in a draft of 
air, at the end of his walk, without it. No cere- 
mony, — no consideration whatever ought to pre- 
vent his avoiding such a place, in such circum- 
stances, with the most scrupulous decision. 

You will gather from the foregoing remarks, that 
my plan for preserving health, is by no means that 
of tampering with medicines, or of perpetual nurs- 
ing, or wrapping up, and avoiding the open air; — 
a plan much more likely to make a valetudinarian, 
than a man of good health; but that of employing 
wisely and vigilantly the great art of prevention. 
Those who are already favoured with good health, 
and a sound constitution, ought to study to retain 
these blessings, by avoiding every species of excess, 
12* 



138 HEALTH. 

and by guarding against every approach to a de- 
rangement of the system; and, under the blessing 
of God, all will be well. 

But while I give these counsels in regard to the 
general health, I feel that there is no less need of 
some advices concerning particular organs of the 
body which are exceedingly apt to suffer from the 
want of skill or attention in their management. 

There is no organ of the human body more apt 
to become disordered by indiscreet or careless use 
than the eyes. What with protracted night stu- 
dies, the unskilful use of candle and lamp light, 
the reading of much small and indistinct print, 
and the prolonged and overstrained application of 
the eyes in any way, they are so much injured by 
many students before they leave college, that they 
are, in a great measure, disabled from the enjoy- 
ment of study for the remainder of their lives. It 
is well known that the justly celebrated Presi- 
dent D wight, by the excessive use of his eyes by 
candle-light, while he was in college, brought on 
a disease of that organ from which he never 
recovered, which gave him much pain, and com- 
pelled him to employ the eyes of others in a large 
part of the studies of his subsequent life. 

In regard to this subject I would earnestly re- 
commend to your attention the following counsels. 

Avoid as much as you possibly can studying by 
candle-light. Begin your studies with the dawn of 



HEALTH. 139 

day, and improve every moment of day-light that 
yoa can secure. Study at a late hour at night 
ought never to be indulged by any one who values 
his health. Two hours sleep before midnight, are 
worth three if not four after it. He who allows 
himself frequently to remain at his studies after ten 
o'clock in the evening, is probably laying up in 
store for himself bitter repentance. 

Further, beware, in night studies, of the use of 
s ich lamps, or other lights, as, by means of reflec- 
tors, pour an intense light on your book or paper. 
Lamps or other lights of this kind, furnished with 
shades, while they undoubtedly shield the eyes 
from injury, by the direct rays of light, which is 
the object aimed at, are apt to do much more in- 
jury, by rendering the reflected light more vivid 
and dazzling. In fact, instead of protecting or 
favouring the eyes, they are apt to impair the 
soundest vision, and have proved in many cases 
extremely hurtful. If a shade be used at all, it 
ought not to be placed on the lamp or candlestick 
itself, for the purpose of casting the light down 
with more intensity; but on the forehead of the 
student, merely to prevent the direct rays of light 
from striking on his eyes. Indeed a common hat 
itself would be one of the best screens with which 
to read or write at night, were it not for the danger 
of keeping the head too warm, and thus laying the 
foundation of various countervailing evils. This is 



140 HEALTH. 

mentioned only for the purpose of pointedly warn- 
ing against it. A very light shade made to fasten 
over the eyes, without covering the head, would 
be in every respect preferable. 

Let me advise you to do all your turilng in a 
standing posture. This has been my own con- 
stant practice for nearly fifty years; and I am con- 
strained, from ample experience, to recommend it 
as attended with- many advantages. If you write 
at a common table, the probability, and certainly 
the danger is, that you will contract a crooked, 
half-bent mode of sitting, which will materially 
injure your health. Writing chairs are very much 
in vogue with many students. But, if I am not 
greatly deceived, they are pestiferous things, which 
do ten times as much harm as good. It is almost 
impossible to write on them without incurring an 
unequal and mischievous pressure on one side. 
Indeed a gentleman of much experience and care- 
ful observation lately assured me that he had pro- 
cured almost the entire banishment of such chairs 
from an important literary institution with which 
he was connected, on account of the serious mis- 
chief which he found them to produce to the per- 
sons and general health of the students. If you 
write standing, and guard against pressing the 
breast bone on the edge of the desk, but rest alto- 
gether on your arms, I am persuaded you will find 
it a method attended with fewer inconveniences 



HEALTH. 141 

and dangers than any other. On this plan, no part 
of the body is in a constrained posture, and the 
circulation is wholly unobstructed. Besides, if you 
read sitting, as most people do, it will create an 
agreeable variety if you rise when you begin to 
write. 

Pay particular attention to your teeth. By this 
I do not mean that you should be continually going 
to the dentist; and far less that you should abound 
in applications to the teeth of various tooth-pow- 
ders, which too commonly partake of acid qualities, 
which cannot fail of corroding, and, of course, in- 
juring them. I believe that, in most cases, apply- 
ing a little clean water, in which a small portion of 
common salt has been dissolved, with a soft brush, 
to the teeth, on rising in the- morning, and just be- 
fore retiring to rest at night, will be quite sufficient 
to preserve a pure and healthful state of the mouth. 
The evils arising from the neglect or mismanage- 
ment of the teeth are not only numerous, but most 
serious. Diseased gums and teeth; fetid breath; 
toothache; early loss of teeth, interfering with the 
mastication of food; and destroying the power of 
distinct articulate speech, are among the natural 
and inevitable results. Often, very often, have I 
seen fine young men, who had originally strong 
and beautiful sets of teeth, from gross negligence, 
or from unhappy management, presenting diseased 
and offensive mouths before they were twenty-five, 



142 HEALTH. 

and obliged to come forward, to the pulpit or the 
bar, with mouths full of substitutes provided by the 
dentist, which, though exceedingly valuable, are 
both defective and troublesome. 

In my letter on temperance, I have dwelt largely 
on the importance of that virtue to health, and 
earnestly hope that my sons will seriously regard 
my counsels on this subject, for the sake of their 
physical, as well as their moral welfare. But there 
are various stimulants beside strong drink, against 
which I would put you on your guard. The 
moderate use of common salt is, I believe, gene- 
rally considered, by wise physiologists, as indis- 
pensable to the healthful condition of animal life; 
and it, therefore, ought to enter, under proper regu- 
lation, into our daily food. But this regulation is 
exceedingly important. The excessive use of this 
article has led to serious evils, and must be con- 
sidered as highly insalubrious. I dislike to see 
young persons using mustard, pepper, and espe- 
cially cayenne pepper, as necessary to give their 
food an acceptable relish. All these things, to- 
gether with the pungent oriental soys, and pickles, 
I would advise you never to use; or at any rate 
never to use them habitually or freely. They are 
all stimulants, and some of them highly stimulating 
in their character; and, of course, their tendency is 
largely to expend the sensorial power of the human 
system, and prematurely to wear out the vital prin- 



HEALTH. 143 

ciple. Perhaps it may be said that some very- 
pleasant dishes require condiments of this kind to 
assist digestion and render them safely eatable. 
But surely, every wise student, if he values his 
constitution, and desires to enjoy comfortable health, 
will rather abstain from dishes which require a very 
vigorous stomach to digest, than resort to violent 
and injurious means for rendering them harmless. 

The ways in which young men in college en- 
danger their health are so numerous, that it is 
difficult to go sufficiently into detail to meet all 
cases. But there is one habit so replete with dan- 
ger, and yet so common that I feel constrained to 
single it out for warning, — I mean the practice of 
sitting, and especially lying on the damp ground, 
in warm weather; — a practice from which severe 
diseases, and the loss of life have often been de- 
rived. It is indeed wonderful that thinking youth 
are so often found indulging in this perilous impru- 
dence. 

Lying long in bed in the morning is very un- 
friendly to health and long life. It is at once a 
symptom and a cause, of feeble digestion, of ner- 
vous debility, and of general languor. Whereas 
early rising is commonly connected with sound 
sleep, with elasticity of body and mind, and with 
habits of activity, which are greatly conducive both 
to health and comfort. Nor is this practice less 
conducive to success in mental improvement. It 



144 HEALTH. 

not only tends to give a daily spring to the mind, 
but also to make a very important addition to the 
studying hours of the student, and to promote long 
life. It was the remark, if I mistake not, of the 
celebrated Lord Mansfield, that illustrious English 
judge, that among all the very aged men whom he 
had been called to examine in his court, he could 
not recollect one that was not an early riser. 

I have only one advice more to offer in regard 
to your health. It is that you never pursue your 
studies to the length of exhaustion; that you never 
urge yourselves to the fulfilment of a prescribed 
task when sickness renders all mental effort pain- 
ful and oppressive. By such pressure the mind is 
jaded and injured, and no valuable acquisition can 
be made. It is not only up-hill work; but any real 
progress, in these circumstances, is seldom made. 
In all mental efforts it is best to leave off before 
reaching the point of fatigue. When we go on be- 
yond that point, we may be said, in general, to lose 
more than we gain. 



145 



LETTER VIII. 

TEMPERANCE. 

nH? Si o aywvi^ojusvoc, TravTa \yn^a.nvtrai. — 1 Cor. ix. 25. 

Mr Dear Sons, 

You will, perhaps, ask, why I devote a whole 
letter to the subject of temperance, when I have 
already employed one in relation to morals in 
general, which might be supposed to include the 
whole department of duty to which it belongs? I 
reply, that I regard the subject of strict temperance 
as so deeply interesting, so vital to the physical 
well-being, as well as to the moral welfare, and 
true honour of a student, that I consider no method 
of making it prominent, and of adding to its im- 
pressiveness in this code of counsels as going 
beyond its unspeakable importance. 

I scarcely ever think of exhorting young men on 
the subject of temperance, without recollecting an 
occurrence in my native town, more than half a 
century ago, which conveyed a lesson to me at 
once striking and solemn. A father who had 
13 



146 TEMPERANCE. 

found a son of eighteen or nineteen years of age 
disorderly and unmanageable, proposed to place 
him under the care and government of a friend 
at some distance, who had a high reputation for 
skill and energy in managing disorderly and vicious 
young men. When the father appeared before 
this friend with his dissipated and intractable son, 
he thought himself bound, both in duty and policy, 
to disclose all the principal faults with which his 
son was chargeable, without disguise or softening. 
He began, by saying, " My son is in grain lazy, 
and cannot be prevailed upon by any influence 
that I can employ to pursue any occupation." "I 
am sorry to hear it," said his friend, "but I have 
been able to reclaim many a youth from habits of 
inveterate idleness." Again, said the father, "My 
son is grievously profane, and has given me much 
distress by his impious language." "That is bad," 
said the friend, "but I do not despair of curing him 
of that fault, distressing as it may be." " That is not 
all," said the father; " he will lie, notwithstanding 
all that I can do to show him the sin and the dis- 
grace of that practice. " " That is, indeed, a dread- 
ful fault," said the friend, " but there is hope of 
reclaiming him even from that habit, vile and de- 
grading as it undoubtedly is." " I have one more 
of his faults to mention," said the father. "He has 
lately manifested a fondness for strong drink, and, 
when intoxicated, has given me much trouble." 



TEMPERANCE. 147 

"Ah, is it indeed so?" said the friend — " then there 
is no hope for him! You must take him away. I 
can do him no good. He will never be cured of that 
vice." This case actually happened. The result 
was as predicted. The unhappy young man was 
taken home again; became more and more sottish; 
and not long afterwards died a miserable drunkard, 
the grief and disgrace of his family. And such, I 
am persuaded, will very seldom fail to be the 
case with a youthful tippler. Perhaps, indeed, my 
countryman, in pronouncing concerning the son of 
his friend, that he would never reform, was rather 
too prompt and summary in his sentence. I will 
not say that the recovery of a youth from that vice 
is in no case to be hoped for. We have reason to 
be thankful that such a favourable event has some- 
times occurred. Nay, among the late triumphs of 
the temperance cause, we have seen cases of such 
reformation occurring much more frequently than 
in former times. Still, of all sinners I am inclined 
to think that the lover of intoxicating drinks is 
among the most hopeless. It is for this reason 
that I call your attention to the subject of temper- 
ance, with* all the emphasis and solemnity of 
which I am capable; and would say in the lan- 
guage of holy writ — "He that hath ears to hear, let 
him hear!" 

I need not remind you, my dear sons, that the 
young are peculiarly apt to be ensnared and ruined 



148 TEMPERANCE. 

by stimulating drinks. They are proverbially fond 
of company and of excitement; having ardent, and 
too often ungovernable feelings, with little experi- 
ence, and a proneness to reject the counsels of age 
and wisdom, no wonder that they are often borne 
away by the intoxicating draught to insane revelry, 
to ruinous disorders, and to the wreck of every 
thing good for time and eternity. O, if you had 
known, as I have, the mischiefs generated in col- 
leges by strong drink; how many amiable and 
promising young men have been led on from 
occasional indulgence to abandoned sottishness; 
and in how many instances young men of polished 
manners have been betrayed by the stimulus of 
drink into acts of disorder, and even brutal vio- 
lence, leading to their temporary suspension from 
college, and even to their ignominious expulsion, 
and final ruin, you would not wonder that I speak 
to you on this subject with so much earnestness 
and importunity. 

You are, no doubt; aware that the laws of the 
college not only prohibit all intemperate drinking, 
but that they forbid every student to keep in his 
room any ardent spirits, or fermented liquors of 
any kind; and that any such article being found in 
the room of a student, without permission, is a 
punishable offence. When you recollect that such 
a law has been framed and placed in your code by 
men of wisdom and experience, and that it belongs 



TEMPERANCE. 149 

to the system of all colleges, I am persuaded that 
you will regard it with approbation, as not at all 
needlessly strict, and that you will feel bound to 
obey it to the letter, and with scrupulous care. 

Do you not know that all alcoholic and fer- 
mented liquors, even those of the mildest form 
when taken habitually, or even frequently, excite 
the nervous system, and thus derange the healthy 
action of that system; that they injure the tone of 
the stomach; that they create a craving thirst, 
which cannot be satisfied without an increase of 
the same potation which created it; that they 
slowly but radically, in most cases, affect the liver, 
and lay the foundation of many loathsome and 
fatal chronic diseases; that when he who is accus- 
tomed to the use of stimulating drinks, in any 
degree, does become sick, his restoration to health 
is less probable, and even when it is effected, more 
slow, because his habit of body interferes with the 
operation of appropriate remedies, rendering them 
less active, and, of course, less useful? If you are 
not aware of all these indubitable facts, it is high 
time that you should recognize and be convinced 
of them, and begin that system of entire absti- 
nence from all stimulating drink which can alone 
ensure your safety. 

Young men are apt to imagine that they are in 
no danger from this vice. They are each ready to 
say, with the youthful and inexperienced Syrian 
13* 



150 TEMPERANCE. 

of old — "What, is thy servant a dog that he should 
do this thing?" But there is no vice in the world 
more alluring, more insidious, or more apt to gain 
the mastery over those who imagine themselves to 
be in no danger from its power. Strong drink of 
any kind excites the feelings. This excitement, 
by. a well known law of our physical constitution, 
is, of course, followed by a corresponding nervous 
depression. This is always more or less painful. 
A sense of physical want is created. The tempta- 
tion to recur to the stimulus which produced the 
preceding excitement will probably be too strong to 
be resisted. Every successive repetition of the sti- 
mulus will increase the craving appetite, and, of 
course, strengthen the temptation to repeat from day 
to day the mischievous remedy. Thus have thou- 
sands who never dreamed of being drunkards, been 
led on from one stage of indulgence to another, as 
the ox is unconsciously led to the slaughter — 
"till," as the wise man expresses it — "a dart 
strikes through his liver, and he knows not that it. 
is for his life." All this, which applies to thou- 
sands who scarcely ever read a book, applies with 
peculiar force to youthful students, who are more 
apt than others to suffer a depression of animal 
feeling, and to be betrayed into a love of some 
artificial excitement. 

It ought to be remembered, too, that the indul- 
gence in stimulating drinks is peculiarly injurious 



TEMPERANCE. 151 

to the youthful frame. By this is meant that habits 
of tippling commenced in early life, are always 
found to undermine the health, and work their 
usual mischiefs, more speedily than when the in- 
dulgence is commenced in more advanced age. 
In regard to persons in middle life, and especially 
still further advanced, when their bodies have 
attained more maturity of growth, and firmness of 
fibre, although the ravages made by stimulating 
drink are deplorably apparent, and finally fatal; 
yet it is observable that the human frame, under 
these ravages, bears up longer, and seems harder 
to be vanquished than in the more youthful sub- 
ject. This is more tender, more excitable, more 
easily deranged, and, of course, more speedily 
prostrated, than the aged frame. Accordingly, it 
has been remarked, by experienced, sagacious ob- 
servers, that when a young person of eighteen or 
twenty years of age begins to indulge, even in a 
small degree, in strong drink, his bodily strength 
is soon undermined, and he commonly falls an 
early prey to the destroyer. 

Listen, then, my dear sons, to an affectionate 
father, when, with all that earnestness which long 
experience and deep conviction warrant, he en- 
treats you to eschew and avoid all use whatever 
of stimulating drinks. Touch nothing of the kind 
as an ordinary beverage. Drink nothing but 
water, and you will be the better for it as long as 



152 TEMPERANCE. 

you live. I believe that intoxicating drinks do not 
help but injure nine hundred and ninety-nine out of 
every thousand of those who use them; and that 
their entire banishment from literary institutions 
is so unspeakably desirable, that it is better — far 
better that the thousandth person should suffer a 
little for want of them, than that their disuse in all 
colleges should not be complete. 

These being my views, it has given me great 
pleasure to learn that a society has been formed in 
your college, embracing the pledge of "total ab- 
stinence from all that can intoxicate." I know that 
some, both in and out of college, consider this as 
a fanatical extreme, and set their faces against it. 
This is not my opinion. I am persuaded that Tem- 
perance societies on the " total abstinence" plan, 
have done much good, and are likely to do much 
more. What though they have been carried on by 
agents of suspicious character, and recommended 
by arguments of a worse than suspicious kind? 
The best things have been perverted, but ought 
not, on that account, to be disused. It is my 
earnest advice, therefore, that you should become 
members of the society alluded to, and not only 
adhere to its pledge with sacred fidelity, but en- 
deavour to promote its popularity and influence by 
all the means in your power. True, indeed, some 
of the advocates of "total abstinence" urge their 
doctrine by arguments which I can by no means 



TEMPERANCE. 153 

sustain. They tell ns that the word of God gives 
no countenance to the use of fermented wine in 
any case whatever, and that it is not lawful to use 
such wine at the Lord's table. In these positions 
I cannot concur. They appear to me unscriptural, 
and, in respect to the Lord's Supper, directly to 
set at defiance the Saviour's express command. I 
can never believe that He instituted an ordinance 
the tendency of which is to make men drunkards. 
Still so far as the advocates of the doctrine in 
question come to the practical result, that all per- 
sons in health ought to abstain from all intoxi- 
cating drink, as an ordinary beverage, for the 
promotion of their own well-being, and, on the 
principle of expediency, for discouraging their use 
by others, I am cordially with them, and sincerely 
wish that all college students in the land were 
banded in such associations. You know that I 
never set any alcoholic or fermented liquors on my 
own table. This has been my practice for many 
years; and I have adopted the practice from a 
conscientious persuasion that my own health, and 
that of all my family is benefited by it; and also 
from an earnest desire to promote by my example, 
the banishment of all such drinks from all classes 
of society. When I see so many around me, 
young and old, falling victims to the use of such 
drinks; and especially when I see so many young 
men of the finest minds, and devoted to literary pur- 



154 TEMPERANCE. 

suits, led astray, and some of them finally ruined 
in body and mind by this deceiver, can you won- 
der that I am unable to restrain my pen when the 
subject is in question? Can you consider any zeal 
as excessive which contemplates the banishment 
of intoxicating drinks in every form from the pre- 
cincts of our literary institutions? As a friend to 
my species I feel constrained to do all in my power 
to discourage the use of this insidious poison. It 
is no sacrifice to me to abstain from all intoxicating 
drinks myself. On the contrary, my firm persua- 
sion is, that, by this abstinence, I promote my own 
present enjoyment, and that of my children. But 
even if it were otherwise, I should feel myself 
abundantly rewarded for the sacrifice by the con- 
sciousness of pursuing a course adapted to dis- 
courage and diminish the use of one of the most 
destructive agents that ever cursed the human 
family. And if I can prevail on my children to 
enter into the spirit of this principle, and not only 
to begin, in the morning of life, to restrain their 
own appetites, but also to co-operate cordially in a 
plan for the benefit of others, it will afford me un- 
speakable gratification as a pledge that they will 
prove benefactors to the world. 

If you desire, my dear sons, to avoid the degrad- 
ing snare of stimulating drinks, avoid, I beseech 
you, all the company which will be likely to lead 
to it. Intemperance is, generally, and especially in 



TEMPERANCE. 155 

its beginnings, a social vice. As "one sinner/' 
in all the walks of life, "destroys much good;" so 
it is eminently true, that one votary of this kind 
of excitement can hardly fail of endangering the 
virtue of others. Fly from the society of all such 
as you would from the most deadly plague. If 
you know of any room in which stimulating drink 
of any kind is kept, avoid it as you would the room 
of a counterfeiter, or receiver of stolen goods. If 
you enter it, none can tell what may be the conse- 
quence. Even if you should not be tempted to 
partake of the interdicted draught, who can assure 
you that your character may not be unexpectedly 
implicated by your being found or seen in the in- 
fected region? 

In fact, any student of college who finds the 
stimulus of company necessary to his comfort, 
ought to consider himself as on the verge of a fatal 
snare. He who cannot be comfortable in the retire- 
ment of his study; who does not feel the acquire- 
ment of knowledge a rich gratification, but finds 
the excitement of company, and the social song in- 
dispensable to his enjoyment, has the utmost reason 
to be alarmed for his safety. The vital principle 
of intemperance has already taken up its abode in 
his person, and, without a miracle, will probably 
make him its victim. 

I should be utterly ashamed, my dear sons, to 
plead so much at length, a cause so plain, and so 



156 TEMPERANCE. 

manifestly important, and indeed vital, as that of 
temperance, were it not that, after all, some young 
men are so infatuated, nay so suicidal as to dis- 
regard all warning, and plunge into the gulf of 
infamy and perdition, in sight of the many beacons 
erected to guard them against it. Every one who 
has eyes to see, perceives that, when young men, 
under the excitement of company, have intoxicat- 
ing drink within their reach, they will seldom fail 
to abuse it. Every one is forced to acknowledge 
that nine-tenths of all the disorders and crimes in 
colleges, as well as in the civil community, arise 
directly or indirectly from the excitement of ine- 
briating liquors; and yet young men, who claim to 
have both talents and moral principle, are neither 
afraid nor ashamed to seek the intoxicating cup, 
and feel as if they had gained a triumph when they 
can enjoy the privilege of making brutes of them- 
selves! 

I will add here, that, if you wish to avoid the 
gulf of intemperance, you must by all means avoid 
the use of tobacco in any form. There are few 
things more adapted to inspire disgust on the score 
of manners, or deep apprehension for the future 
welfare of young men, than to see them puffing 
their cigars in the faces of all who approach them, 
or chewing their nauseous quids, and squirting 
their filthy saliva in every direction. The mis- 
chiefs wrought on the human system by this nar- 



TEMPERANCE. 157 

cotic weed are so many and serious, that the only- 
wonder is, that any intelligent young man, who 
does not wish to court disease and danger should 
allow himself to use it. I do not say that every 
one who uses it incurs the mischiefs to which I 
refer; but I assert that every one is in danger of 
incurring them, and that if he escapes, it is not 
owing to any want of evil tendency in the indul- 
gence itself, but to the favour of a merciful Provi- 
dence. There can be no doubt that both chewing 
and smoking tobacco, especially the former, have 
been the means of making thousands of drunkards. 
Do you ask wherein consists the connection be- 
tween the use of tobacco and the habit of intem- 
perance in drinking? I answer, much every way. 
Do you not know that that filthy and pernicious 
weed, when either chewed or smoked, is a strong 
exciter of the nervous system; and that, of course, 
it deranges the natural and healthful action of that 
system? Do you not know that it impairs the 
appetite; that it interferes with the regular diges- 
tion of food; that it often induces distressing and 
incurable diseases, not only of the stomach, but 
also of the whole body? Are you not aware that 
the progress of morbid habit in the use of tobacco, 
is exactly the same as in the use of spirituous 
liquors? The slaves of it begin with what they 
call the temperate and even sparing use of the arti- 
cle. They take, perhaps, a single cigar, or a single 
14 



158 TEMPERANCE. 

quid, or a single pinch of snuff, in a given number 
of hours. But, after awhile, the appetite for this 
indulgence is ever craving and never satisfied; the 
sensibility of the body of course diminishes with 
the increase of the frequency and quantity of the 
stimulus; until, at last, the miserable individual is 
wretched without it; and when he cannot obtain 
the indulgence, is reduced to a state of suffering 
more distressing than when tortured by the most 
importunate hunger. I have often known persons, 
when deprived of the use of tobacco for a few 
hours, wholly unfit for either study or conversation, 
and thrown into a state of agitation but little short 
of mental derangement. Is it wise in any one to 
create such an artificial craving as may make him 
the sport of circumstances, and the absence of a 
paltry indulgence destructive to his comfort, and 
even, for a time, to his usefulness? 

It has been said indeed, that chewing and smok- 
ing tobacco assist the operations of the mind; that 
they produce a soothing and quickening influence 
which is friendly to study, and especially to all 
works of composition and eloquence. But do not 
ardent spirits and wine give insidious aid of the 
same kind; and is not the ultimate effect, in both 
cases, deceptive and often fatal? 

Nor is the tendency of tobacco less obvious to 
produce ultimate intemperance in the use of dis- 
tilled and fermented liquors. One of the usual 



TEMPERANCE. 159 

effects of smoking and chewing is thirst. This 
thirst cannot be allayed by water; for no insipid 
beverage will be relished when the mouth and 
throat have been exposed to the stimulus of the 
smoke or juice of tobacco. A desire is, of course, 
excited for strong drink; and this, when taken 
between meals, will soon lead to habits of intoxica- 
tion. I have seen so many chewers and smokers 
ensnared into the opprobrious love of inebriating 
drinks, that I always tremble when I see any one, 
and especially a young person, becoming fond of 
the cigar or the quid, and consider him as on the 
verge of a precipice. 

I have forborne to say any thing of the enormous 
expense of smoking, especially as this indulgence 
is conducted by some students of reckless habits. 
I cannot doubt that some members of colleges have 
added one hundred dollars a year to the other 
charges of their education, for this hateful and 
offensive indulgence alone; in a few cases perhaps 
double that sum. How a young man of reflection 
has been able to settle such an account with his 
own conscience, and with an affectionate parent, 
who was, perhaps, denying himself for the sake of 
furnishing the requisite funds for a beloved son, I 
know not. I am constrained to think less of the 
moral sentiments as well as of the understanding 
of one who is capable of reconciling himself to such 



160 TEMPERANCE. 

extravagance for such a hateful and injurious pur- 
pose. 

My opposition to the use of tobacco in the form 
of snuff is scarcely less decisive than that to the 
other forms of this noxious weed. The effects of 
snuff in affecting the voice, the complexion, and 
the nervous system, are well known to all persons 
of much observation. I have seen deplorable cases 
of nasal obstruction, of nervous tremulousness, and 
various forms of disease induced by this disgusting 
habit; and every young person who indulges in it 
in any degree, is in danger of being led on by 
degrees until he shall become a distress to himself, 
and an offence to all who approach him. 

Let me entreat you, then, my dear sons, never 
to indulge in the use of tobacco in any form, or in 
any degree. Whether the temptation assail you 
by assuming the guise of a remedy for some dis- 
ease, or as a source of social enjoyment, believe not 
its promises. It is a deceiver, and will, sooner or 
later, give reason for repentance. 

The late Dr. Franklin, a few months before his 
death, declared to a friend, that he had never used 
tobacco in any way in the course of a long life; and 
that one striking fact had exerted much influence 
on his mind in relation to this practice, viz. that he 
never had met with any one who was addicted 
to the use of it who advised him to follow his ex- 
ample. I will add to this statement another of 



TEMPERANCE. 161 

similar and still more decisive import. I never yet 
met with a large consumer of tobacco in any form 
who, when interrogated on the subject, did not say, 
that, if he had to live his life over again, he would 
avoid the habit which had made him its slave; and 
that he would by no means advise his children to 
do as he had done. 

I expressed an opinion, on a preceding page, that 
you ought to make water your only common beve- 
rage. My own personal experience, as well as 
close observation on the habits of others, convince 
me of the wisdom of this advice. If you wish to 
live out all your days, and to possess a sound mind 
in a sound body, drink nothing else, as a habit. 
But you may drink too much, even of water. The 
habit of incessantly guzzling even this simple and 
innocent fluid, either marks the existence of dis- 
ease, or will probably lead to it. It indicates the 
presence, or the approach of a feverish diathesis; or 
if it do not spring from the power of disease al- 
ready formed, it will be likely, by deluging the 
stomach with fluid, by diluting the gastric juice, 
and thus impairing its appropriate power, to inter- 
fere with digestion, and, of course, to impair the 
health. Thirst is quite as well slaked, in my ex- 
perience, by two or three spoonfuls as by a pint or 
a quart; and all beyond this moderate portion tends 
rather to load the stomach than to refresh and 
nourish. The habit of flooding the stomach with 
14* 



162 TEMPERANCE. 

fluids is, undoubtedly, to most people, very inju- 
rious. The drier our food when we receive it the 
better. At least all my observation leads me so to 
pronounce. 

Besides, if I mistake not, I have had occasion to 
remark, that the habit of intemperance in drinking 
even water is apt ultimately to betray those who 
indulge it, into the intemperate use of intoxicating 
drinks. Where persons find perpetual drinking 
necessary to their comfort; where they have in- 
duced a constant artificial thirst, and are continually 
moistening their lips and fauces with the mildest 
fluid; what can be more natural than gradually to 
slide into the use of something more sapid and 
stimulating? The incessant drinker will seldom be 
long together satisfied with water alone. 



163 



LETTER IX. 

THE FORMATION AND THE VALUE OF CHARACTER. 

«' Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, 
whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever 
things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there 
be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things." — 
Philip, iv. 8. 

Mr Dear Sons, 

I take for granted that you have a laudable 
desire to maintain an elevated character, not only 
among your fellow students, but also in general 
society, and throughout life. I have no objection 
to styling this desire a commendable ambition. I 
am aware that the term ambition is generally used 
in a bad sense, and that it is not commonly num- 
bered among the Christian virtues. But 1 am un- 
willing that the devil should appropriate such an 
expressive and convenient word to his own use. 
Ambition may be groveling and criminal, or it 
may be elevated and noble. It is always the latter 
when its object is the attainment of true excellence, 



164 THE FORMATION OF CHARACTER, 

and the enjoyment of high esteem among the wise 
and the good. The Latin scholar will imme- 
diately trace its etymology to the practice among 
the old Romans, of candidates for office "going 
about" to solicit the good opinion and votes of the 
people. But when any one seeks to excel in vir- 
tuous and useful conduct; when he desires to have 
a "good name" among his fellow men; and for 
the attainment of this, among higher and better 
objects, "goes about" doing good — seeking to 
promote the welfare of all around him; — who will 
hesitate to say, that this is a laudable ambition? 
The truth is, this feeling, like the desire of happi- 
ness, is good or evil according to the direction 
which it takes, and the means which it employs. 
I indulge the hope that the ambition of my be- 
loved sons will be neither irregular nor ignoble; 
but will have for its object that " good name which 
is rather to be chosen than great riches, and that 
loving favour which is more precious than silver 
or gold." 

Ask yourselves, then, what is that thing called 
elevated character, which is most highly esteemed 
among wise men, and which is most worthy of your 
pursuit? It is not the possession of great wealth. 
Some of the richest men that ever lived have been 
among the most vile and detestable? The great 
Governor of the world often testifies "of how little 
value exorbitant wealth is in his sight by bestow- 



THE FORMATION OF CHARACTER. 165 

ing it upon the most unworthy of mortals."* 
Neither does the character of which I speak con- 
sist of great popularity among the multitude. This 
popularity has frequently been attained, and some- 
times in a very high degree, by men who were 
destitute of a single virtue, and who ought to have 
been universally abhorred. Nor does it necessarily 
imply great genius, or intellectual powers of a 
very high order. These endowments fall to the 
lot of very few men, and even these are sometimes 
monsters of wickedness. What wise man would 
be willing to take the talents of Byron at the 
expense of incurring his moral infamy? On the 
contrary some of the most beloved and useful men 
that ever lived, did not possess extraordinary 
talents, but that happy combination of good sense, 
sound judgment and great moral purity and ac- 
tivity which fitted them to be a blessing to man- 
kind. 

What, then, is that character which is most 
highly esteemed by the wise and the good; which 
most certainly and effectually commands public 
esteem and confidence; and which a man of really 
elevated views would wish to enjoy? No thinking 
person can be for a moment at a loss to answer 
this question. It is a character which exhibits the 
combined and noble qualities of respectable talents, 

*Arbuthnot's Epitaph on Francis Chartres. 



166 THE FORMATION OF CHARACTER. 

sound and extensive knowledge, immovable in- 
tegrity and honour, persevering industry in every 
laudable pursuit, fidelity to every engagement, 
enlightened, steady patriotism, a spirit of warm, 
diffusive, active benevolence, and unfeigned con- 
sistent piety. Where these qualities meet and 
shine in any individual — and the more complete 
the assemblage the better — all parties will unite in 
ascribing to him an exalted character; — all will 
concur in saying — this is the " highest style of 
man." Even the vilest profligate in the commu- 
nity would earnestly desire, if it were possible, to 
possess such a character; and if he were about to 
select a medical attendant for his family in severe 
sickness; a legal counsellor for himself in a case of 
important and perplexing controversy; an executor 
of his estate, or a guardian for his children; he 
would say, with instinctive eagerness, " Give me a 
man not only of sound talents and knowledge, but 
also of high and unblemished moral and religious 
character." Even atheists have never failed to 
prefer such men for important confidential trusts, 
to those of their own class. And why is it thus? 
simply because the character which I have de- 
scribed is best adapted to prepare those who pos- 
sess it to meet all the relations, to perform all the 
duties, and to enjoy all the comforts of life, and to 
promote the welfare and happiness of all around 
them. 



THE FORMATION OF CHARACTER. 167 

The value of such a character, as a commodity 
in the market, is inestimable. The qualities, in- 
deed, which go to form such a character are intrin- 
sically excellent, and ought to be prized for their 
own sake. But their value does not end here. 
They elevate their possessor in public estimation. 
They inspire confidence not only, as I have said, 
on the part of the wise and the good, but of all 
classes of society. They put it in his power to 
take a higher professional stand; to command 
larger emoluments for his services; and, in short, 
to attain honours and rewards in proportion to 
their popular acceptance. 

Now if such be the character which is most 
truly desirable; which is most esteemed by all 
classes of men; which is the richest source of in- 
fluence and power; and which is adapted to secure 
the greatest amount both of usefulness and enjoy- 
ment, — surely every one who is preparing to live, 
should keep this object continually in view, and 
seek its attainment as the best earthly treasure. 
He cannot begin too early, or labour too diligently 
to gain that which is unspeakably more precious 
than all the stores of mammon that were ever 
amassed. On the one hand, whatever else a man 
may gain, if his character be not elevated, he is 
poor indeed: and, on the other hand, whatever he 
may lose, if his character be untarnished and high, 
he is still rich. Friends may die; wealth may take 



168 THE FORMATION OF CHARACTER. 

to itself wings and fly away; honourable office 
may be wrested from him; but if his character 
remain unsullied, his most precious earthly posses- 
sion is still left him; he can still call his own all 
that love, respect, and true honour, which may 
enable him either to regain all that he has lost, or 
to live contented and happy without it. 

This being the case, it has often excited in 
my mind great surprise, and not a little regret, to 
find members of college, not freshmen merely, 
but juniors, and even seniors, apparently taking 
no thought for the establishment of a high and 
honourable character among their fellow students, 
and the mass of their acquaintances. I see them 
indulging a temper, using language, exhibiting 
manners, and allowing themselves to pursue a 
system of conduct, adapted to excite the aversion 
and distrust if not the utter enmity of all who are 
connected with them. Surely such young men 
forget that, even if they succeed in becoming emi- 
nent scholars, it will only be to render themselves 
more conspicuously odious, and, of course, more 
unable to rise in the world; and they equally forget 
that if it be desirable and important that a good 
character be formed, as it is not the growth of a 
day, or of a sudden volition, the sooner they begin 
to form and to build it up the better. 

This character, let it ever be remembered, must 
in all cases be formed by the individual himself. 



THE FORMATION OP CHARACTER. 169 

I do not mean, of course, by this remark, to exclude 
that divine aid by which every thing truly good in 
our hearts or lives is attained. Without that aid 
we can do nothing. But my meaning is, that 
every one's character depends on the spirit and 
conduct which he himself possesses and exhibits. 
He cannot leave to others the task of forming it 
for him, any more than he can leave to others the 
task of eating and drinking and breathing to sus- 
tain his life. His own spirit and acts must form 
his character. It is not enough that the parents or 
other relatives of a young man maintain a high 
standing. They may occupy the very highest posi- 
tion in office, honour and wealth that can possibly 
be enjoyed; but if he have no character of his own, 
these advantages will be so far from sustaining 
him, that their influence will be rather adverse in 
its nature. His degradation will assuredly be, by 
contrast, more complete, in public estimation, on 
account of the other members of his family. I 
have known not a few young men evidently ruined 
by acting on the presumption that the character of 
their parents would sustain them without effort on 
their part, and who, under this impression, ne- 
glected the cultivation of their minds, and took no 
pains to form virtuous habits, or to establish a 
reputation of their own. Never was there a more 
deplorable mistake than this. Character is a per- 
sonal matter. It must be strictly your own, or it can 
15 



170 THE FORMATION OF CHARACTER. 

profit you nothing. There is a sense, and that a 
most, important one, in which it may be said, that 
all the world can not sustain your reputation, if 
you neglect it yourselves. It must, under God, be 
constantly sustained by yourselves, or it will fall 
into ruin. 

So far as my observation has gone, the greater 
part of college students appear to have no laudable 
emulation at all. They are sunk in intellectual 
and moral apathy, neither aiming nor striving to 
excel in any thing. And when a few are roused 
to a measure of zeal and effort, their desire seems 
to be directed to mere excellence in scholarship 
and nothing else. If they can outstrip all others 
in study and attainments, their utmost wishes are 
answered. This is, no doubt, an important part of 
the character which ought to be sought by every 
young man; but it is not the ivhole; nay, it is not 
the most essential part. Many a youth has gained 
the " first honour," who had a hateful temper, and 
never attained any high degree of esteem among 
men, notwithstanding his mere literary triumph. 
It is my earnest desire, my dear sons, that you 
may acquire and maintain a character for eminent 
scholarship; but it would grieve me to the heart if 
your character went no further than this. My 
still more ardent desire is, that you may attain and 
manifest all those moral and religious qualities 
which excite esteem, which command confidence, 



THE FORMATION OF CHARACTER. 171 

which secure the love of the wise and the good, and 
which prepare for eminent usefulness. This, this 
is the character which, in prosperity and adversity, 
in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, in 
life and in death, will bear its possessor through, 
and never fail him. 

Allow me to say, further, that I desire for you 
that decision of character which is adapted to 
resist all temptation, and to overbear every un- 
friendly influence. The great unhappiness of many, 
and especially of many young men, is that, though 
their principles are correct, and their intentions 
good, they are apt to yield to solicitation. They 
cannot put a decisive negative on the wishes and 
entreaties of beloved friends. This is a deplorable 
weakness, which has led to many a false step, and 
to many a shipwreck of youthful promise. It is 
one of the most precious attainments of a young 
man not only to be established in good principles, 
but to have them so fixed, firm and governing as 
to stand equally unmoved against the terrors of 
menace, and the enticements of flattery; to culti- 
vate a firmness of moral purpose which dares to 
deny, and which is not ashamed in pursuing the 
path of duty, to put custom, fashion, and the solici- 
tation of the greatest numbers at defiance. This 
moral courage, boldness and decision impart a 
finish to a character in all other respects good, 
which is at once as ornamental as it is useful. 



172 THE FORMATION OP CHARACTER. 

While I call upon you to consider the import- 
ance of character, and to recollect that it is a trea- 
sure to be formed and maintained by yourselves; I 
would, at the same time remind you that it is a 
most delicate thing which a single false step may 
irretrievable destroy. Young men are apt, indeed, 
to imagine that their conduct during the period of 
adolescence is of small importance. They admit, 
and perhaps in some measure feel, that, by and by, 
when they shall have advanced a little further in 
the career of life, every step that they take will be 
practically momentous. They allow that reputa- 
tion then will be, indeed, a tender plant, easily 
blasted, and requiring to be protected and nurtured 
with the utmost care. But now they imagine that 
they may take considerable liberties with their 
reputation; that juvenile mistakes, and even serious 
delinquencies, will be readily overlooked and soon 
forgotten by an indulgent community. There 
never was a greater mistake. All my experience 
leads me to say, that the aberrations of college 
students from the paths of integrity and honour are 
remembered against them with a degree of tena- 
city and permanency truly instructive. I have 
known one false step in college, one dishonest or 
dishonourable action, one consent, in evil hour, to 
become a partaker in a disreputable scheme or 
enterprise, to fasten itself upon a young man, to 
follow him, and to adhere to him to his dying day. 



THE FORMATION OF CHARACTER. 173 

I could easily specify examples, if it were proper, 
in which gross lying, petty theft, mean deception, 
or swindling, which occurred in different colleges, 
at eighteen or nineteen years of age; which no 
subsequent conduct could ever obliterate from the 
popular memory; which followed their perpetra- 
tors through a long public career; and which some 
coarse rival or opponent brought up to their con- 
fusion and shame in old age. When will the 
wretch who, not long since, murdered Professor 
Davis, of the University of Virginia, be able to 
escape from the infamy, and, if he be not a fiend 
incarnate, from the remorse, of that awful crime? 
Even if, by the grace of God, he were to become 
a saint from this hour, how would he obtain 
deliverance from the tortures of his own mind, or 
from the reproaches of every one who identified 
his person, though taking refuge in the remotest 
corner of the globe to which his flight may bear 
him? 

Let me say, then, my dear sons, if you desire to 
form and maintain an honourable character through 
life, begin now to establish it, to watch over it, to 
guard with the utmost care against every thing 
that can, by possibility, affect it unfavourably. Try 
to establish a reputation with all with whom you 
have intercourse, for a strict regard to truth, and 
for the most scrupulous adherence to integrity and 
honour in every transaction. Let nothing tempt 
15* 



174 THE FORMATION OP CHARACTER. 

you to engage, for a moment, in any scheme or 
enterprise involving duplicity, underhand dealing, 
or any thing that could tempt you to shun the light. 
Allow yourselves to deceive nobody. Enter into 
no cabal. Put it into no one's power to charge 
you with mean trick, or double dealing, in the 
smallest concern. Rather suffer any thing your- 
selves than deceive, betray, or injure any human 
being. Let no false shame, no fear of giving 
offence, no desire to conciliate friends ever tempt 
you to consent to that which your judgment con- 
demns. Dare to do what your conscience tells 
you is right, — whomsoever it may disappoint or 
offend. Avoid with sacred care slander, back- 
biting, in short, every thing inconsistent with the 
strictest justice, the most elevated magnanimity, 
and the purest benevolence. Never indulge that 
gossiping spirit, which leads to the propagation, 
however honestly, of evil reports, and which fre- 
quently involves those who indulge it in vexatious 
and not very honourable explanations and apolo- 
gies. You are preparing, if permitted to live, for 
public usefulness. For such a life, in any profes- 
sion, a degree of reserve, caution, and even tacitur- 
nity, is indispensable. Begin now that self-discipline 
which will prepare you for all the solemn and deli- 
cate responsibilites of public station. A man "full 
of talk" will often find himself embarrassed by the 
unbridled effusions of his own tongue. "Be swift 



THE FORMATION OP CHARACTER. 175 

to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath." In a word, 
let it be your aim in every thing to establish such 
a character as shall compel every one who knows 
you to rely on your word as much as upon other 
men's oath; and to say, whenever there is occasion 
to speak of you, " Here, if any where on earth, we 
shall find candour, truth and honour." 



176 



LETTER X. 

PATRIOTISM. 

" Pro Patria, Pro Patria." 

My Dear Sons, 

An eastern sage was wont to say, " No life is 
pleasing to God, that is not useful to man." The 
spirit of Christianity still more clearly and strongly 
inculcates the same sentiment. The Saviour con- 
stantly " went about doing good." His daily walks, 
and all his miracles had for their object the instruc- 
tion of the ignorant, the relief of suffering, and. the 
promotion of the temporal and eternal welfare of 
men. 

This is the pattern for all who profess to be his 
disciples. Nay more, it is not only the pattern 
presented and recommended to the Christian; but it 
is a plan of living so reasonable, so beautiful, so 
wise, and. so attractive in itself, that every rational 
creature ought to make it his model. It were an 
easy task, independently of revelation, to demon- 
strate that such a life, on the part of every social 
being, is demanded by his own true interest, and 



PATRIOTISM. 177 

by the happiness of society, as well as by the 
authority of God. It is true on the real prin- 
ciples of natural religion, as well as of revealed, 
that no man can innocently live to himself. 

What ingenuous youthful student of the classics 
has not felt a generous ardour glowing in his bosom 
when he dwelt on that oft repeated maxim of the 
pagan poet, "Dulce et decorum est pro patria 
mori;" and when he read of the self-sacrifices of 
Cur this, and of the father, son and grandson of the 
Decii, for the sake of their country? Surely these 
feelings are not kindled by an ideal abstraction. 

I am aware that it has been said, that we no 
where find patriotism enjoined, as a virtue in the 
Christian Scriptures. And, if by patriotism be 
meant, as some understand the term to mean, that 
exclusive or paramount attachment to a particular 
nation, because we happen to be members of it, 
which permits us to disregard the rights or invade 
the interests of other nations; then, indeed, the 
word of God neither enjoins nor allows it. The 
religion of the Bible is adapted and intended for 
all nations alike. And, of course, the spirit of the 
Bible is a spirit of universal benevolence, which 
desires and aims to promote the welfare of every 
creature. 

We are not, indeed, to consider Christianity as 
teaching that we are to have no more regard for 
our own country than for any other. Such a view 



17S PATRIOTISM. 

of duty would be unnatural, and likely to exert, in 
the end, a mischievous influence. The apostle 
Paul expresses, in Romans ix. 3, a special attach- 
ment to "his brethren, his kinsmen according to 
the flesh;" and the same inspired man still more 
strongly and solemnly expresses the same senti- 
ment when he says, 1 Timothy, v. 8, " He that pro- 
videth not for his own, and especially for those of 
his own house, hath denied the faith, and is worse 
than an infidel." The truth is, it is always most 
natural and most easy to consult the interest and 
promote the welfare of those among whom we 
dwell; to whom we can have ready access; and 
especially who are cast upon our care. It would, 
indeed, be superlatively absurd to leave our own 
children to the care of strangers, while we took 
care of theirs; or to leave the concerns of our own 
country to be looked after and managed by foreign- 
ers, while we undertook to legislate and judge for 
other countries. Nevertheless, though our own 
families, our own towns, and our own country ought 
to engage far more of our attention and care than 
other families, other towns, and other countries; yet 
we are not at liberty, so to care for ourselves as to 
disregard or oppose the welfare of others. But 
while we are peculiarly careful to do good to our 
own, we are quite as carefully to avoid all invasion 
of the rights or happiness of other families or na- 
tions. 



PATRIOTISM. 179 

Dr. Johnson, indeed, once said, that " patriotism 
is the last refuge of a scoundrel." By this apo- 
thegm that eminent man did not mean to say, that 
there is no such genuine virtue; but that, in ninety- 
nine cases out of an hundred, its most forward and 
noisy claimants were supremely and dishonestly 
selfish, and really seeking their own aggrandize- 
ment, not their country's welfare. This witness is 
true. There can be no doubt that the greater num- 
ber of those who claim for their zeal and their toil 
the patriot's name, are actuated by the meanest 
selfishness, and are seeking nothing but their own 
advantage. Yet, sordid and base as the greater 
portion of those who take this name are, patriotism 
is not a mere name. It is a precious reality. And 
I wish you to possess it. 

He is the truest patriot, then, in the Christian 
sense of the word, who loves his own country with 
sincere peculiar affection, and constantly labours to 
promote her true honour and happiness; but with- 
out injuring or diminishing the welfare of any 
other country: who devotes his time, his counsels 
and his best efforts for bestowing intellectual, moral 
and physical benefits on the community to which 
he belongs; but at the same time desires and strives 
to bestow the same benefits, as far as may be, on 
all other communities. In short, Christian patriot- 
ism considers nothing as foreign from its care which 
tends to promote the happiness of man; and for this 



180 PATRIOTISM. 

purpose plans and labours, first to confer all possi- 
ble benefits on its own family and nation, and then 
on other families and nations to the remotest 
bounds of human society. In a word, the spirit of 
genuine patriotism, is the spirit which prompts to 
do good in every way to every branch of the hu- 
man family, and especially to those with whom 
we are more immediately connected, or who are 
placed most directly within our reach. This is the 
noble virtue which I should be glad to see my sons 
cultivating, and which I hope will more and more 
shine in them as long as they live. 

A venerable English reformer, nearly three cen- 
turies ago, when he was drawing near the close of 
life, exclaimed with emphasis, " Pro Ecclesia Dei; 
Pro Ecclesia Deif" It would gratify me more 
than I can express to know that similar language, 
whether in sickness or in health, in life or in death, 
was constantly uppermost on your lips. But it 
would also afford me high pleasure to know that, 
even now, in the walks of the college, your minds 
are animated with a noble ambitionv to discharge 
with fidelity all your duties as good citizens, and 
that in looking forward to your course in life, you 
often have in your minds the spirit, and on your 
lips the language of the motto, which stands at the 
head of this letter — Pro Patria — Pro Patriaf 

Perhaps you are ready to say, that a letter on 
patriotism is hardly appropriate in a code of coun- 



PATRIOTISM. 181 

sels addressed to lads in college; that advice on 
such a topic would be more seasonable if intended 
for young men entering on professional life, and 
preparing to discharge their duties as active citi- 
zens. If such a thought arise in your minds, it in- 
dicates immature conceptions of the subject. The 
present is your seed-time of life, not only in regard 
to the acquisition of knowledge, but also in respect 
to the sentiments and habits of thinking which are 
to stamp your whole course. Alexander Hamil- 
ton, the first Secretary of the Treasury of the 
United States, came to this country, a youth of six- 
teen, a short time before the crisis of our contest 
with Great Britain, and the commencement of the 
revolutionary war. Though this was only his 
adopted country, yet, as he resolved to cast in his 
lot with her, he soon began to feel that she had 
claims upon him, and that his best powers ought to 
be devoted to her service. Even while he was in 
•college, his patriotic zeal was awakened to plead 
her cause, and endeavour to promote her welfare. 
At that early period he wrote a number of pieces 
in the journals of the day, in favour of indepen- 
dence, so judicious, so eloquent, and in every re- 
spect so elevated in their character, that they were, 
at first, ascribed to the pen of one of the ablest 
writers and statesmen of New York. With what 
ardour, ability and usefulness the subsequent por- 
tions of his life were devoted to the service of his 
16 



182 PATRIOTISM. 

country, in her armies, her deliberative bodies, and 
her cabinet, no one who is acquainted with our his- 
tory is ignorant. 

This example, and many others which might be 
cited, both in this country and the land of our 
fathers, show that the sooner you begin to realize 
to yourselves that your country has a claim on you, 
and that you are bound to respond to that claim 
by preparing to serve her with your best powers, 
— the better. Such a practical impression, recog- 
nised and carried out into habitual act, is adapted 
to exert an influence on the whole character of a 
young man, of the happiest kind. 

It cannot fail to enlarge and elevate his mind. 
One of the greatest faults of most young men is, 
that their views are narrow and sordid. They do 
not lift their minds to high and remote objects. If 
their present appetites and wishes can be gratified; 
if their present little tasks can be acceptably per- 
formed, it is enough. They look for no prepara- 
tion, recognise no responsibility beyond this. But 
the moment the principle of genuine patriotism 
takes root and springs up in the mind, it presents 
an object of desire, a motive to action, at once 
noble and elevating. It carries its possessor out of 
himself, and disposes him to make sacrifices to 
principle. The youth begins to see that he is 
bound to live for a great purpose. His country, in 
consequence of his connecting with it his own des- 



PATRIOTISM. 183 

tiny, appears more precious. He cherishes a sacred 
emulation to be a benefactor to the community and 
to the world. He desires that the world may be 
the better and the happier for his having lived in 
it. He, of course, shapes his plans, his studies, and 
his habits accordingly. He cultivates his powers, 
stores his mind with knowledge, and labours to 
attain that species of excellence which will enable 
him most effectually to serve the public. In short, 
the mind of such a youth is cast, as it were, into a 
mould adapted to great attainments, great services, 
and great usefulness. 

Such a youth will, of course, learn to see and 
despise that noisy, heartless pretension to patriot- 
ism, which flows, not from the least love of country, 
but from a desire to make a living out of the coun- 
try, or to be decorated with her honours. This, it 
is to be feared, is the real spirit of nine-tenths, if 
not much more, of all the professed patriotism 
which is most ardent and obtrusive. This spirit is 
indeed, what the great English moralist styles it, 
"the last refuge of a scoundrel." The young 
patriot in college will have made no small acquisi- 
tion when he has learned the sordid, despicable 
character of this spirit, and acquired a real taste for 
something higher and better. 

I need scarcely add, that the student who has 
imbibed something of the patriotic spirit, will not 
be found lending his aid, or even his countenance 



184 PATRIOTISM. 

to any species of disorder in college. He will 
regard perfect obedience to the laws as an essential 
part of the character, not only of a good student, 
but also of a good citizen. He will turn away, 
upon principle, from all the practices which are 
unfriendly to order, to purity, to health, and, in 
general, to the best interests of society. He will 
refuse to employ his time in reading books, what- 
ever may be their fascinations, which are immoral, 
and, of course, mischievous in their tendency. In 
a word, he will abhor every thing which is un- 
friendly to the happiness of the community; and 
will grudge no toil which is adapted to put him in 
posession of any knowledge or accomplishment by 
which he may be better qualified to become an 
ornament and a benefactor to his country. 

I hope, my dear sons, you will no longer say or 
think, that this is a subject on which it is unsuit- 
able to address a student in college. So far from 
this being, in my estimation, the case, I am con- 
strained to say, that, next to the piety of the heart, 
which is, more than any thing else, the anchor of 
the soul, and better adapted to hold it fast, and to 
hold it comfortably on the troubled ocean of life — 
I desire my sons to imbibe the spirit of patriotism; 
to feel that they belong to their country, as well as 
their God, and that they are solemnly bound to 
cultivate every power, and to make every attain- 
ment, which will qualify them to be so many 



PATRIOTISM. 185 

sources of light, and virtue and happiness to the 
community. Because I know that the more deeply 
this principle shall take root in their minds, the 
more benign the influence which it will exert over 
the whole character. Such a principle will not be 
a mere name. It will sober the mind. It will 
impress a deep sense of responsibility. It will ex- 
cite to diligence in study. It will guard a young 
man against giving his time to that frivolous or 
mischievous reading which tends to his injury, in- 
stead of preparing him for the duties of practical life. 
In short, it will tend to impart that sobriety, that 
dignity, that industry, that desire to serve his gene- 
ration, and that desire to live in the affections and 
in the memory of his fellow citizens, which we 
may hope will be the means of preparing him to 
be the man, and to make the attainments, which 
are the objects of his noble ambition. 



16 4 



186 



LETTER XI. 

PARTICULAR STUDIES. 

Floriferis ut apes in saltibus omnia libant, 

Omnia nos ilidem depascimur aurea dicta. — Lucretius. 

My Dear Sons, 

When some one asked Jlgesilaus, the king of 
Sparta, " What it was in which youth ought prin- 
cipally to he instructed?" he very wisely replied, 
" That which they will have most need to practise 
when they are men." I said that this was a wise 
reply; and so it undoubtedly was, if we could as- 
sume that every one knows in youth what he may 
have most occasion for when he becomes a man. 
But I contend that no man knows what the- provi- 
dence of God has in reserve for him in after life; 
and, of course no one can tell, in all cases, what 
branch of knowledge, among those which he is 
called to study, may be of most importance to him 
hereafter, either as a means of subsistence, or as an 
avenue to honour and usefulness. If, therefore, 
a student of college were to ask me, " Which of 
my prescribed studies shall I attend to with dili- 



PARTICULAR STUDIES. 187 

gence?" I would certainly reply — "to all;— neglect 
none of them; — be not content to be superficial in 
any of them. It may be that, in after life, you may 
find those branches of knowledge which you are 
now tempted to undervalue, of more vital import- 
ance to you than all the rest put together. To meet 
an exigency of this kind, try to be thorough in 
every study; and then you may be prepared for 
situation in which the providence of God may 
any place you.'' 

I shall never forget a remarkable example, 
which at once illustrates and confirms this advice. 
I was intimately acquainted, in early life, with one 
of the most accomplished scholars our country ever 
bred. I refer to the Rev. Dr. John Ewing, of 
Philadelphia, for many years Provost — another 
name for President — of the University of Pennsyl- 
vania. He was a graduate of the College of New 
Jersey, which then had its location in Newark, 
but now in Princeton. He belonged to the class 
which was graduated in 1755, and, after reading 
what I am about to state, you will not wonder that 
he was greatly distinguished in his class. He 
remarked, one day, in my hearing, that, in the 
earlier stages of his college life, he was often 
tempted to slight what he then deemed some of 
the less essential branches of his prescribed course. 
He sometimes, he said, asked himself, " Of what 
use can some of these studies possibly be to me in 



1S8 PARTICULAR STUDIES. 

after life?" Partly by his own better reflections, 
however, and partly by the advice of the venerable 
President Burr, then at the head of the institution, 
he was induced neither to neglect nor slight any 
study, under the impression that he might have 
occasion for them all in his subsequent course. 
This suggestion, which he contemplated as a possi- 
bility, was amply realized. After the lapse of a 
few years, he was himself placed at the head of an 
important college, and found abundant use for all 
his acquirements. He was probably more tho- 
roughly accomplished in all the branches of know- 
ledge usually studied in the best colleges, than any 
other native American of his day; and probably 
few of his contemporaries in any country exceeded 
him. This qualified him not only to maintain an 
enlightened superintendance over the whole insti- 
tution committed to his care, but also enabled him 
in the occasional absence of any professor, what- 
ever his branch of instruction might be, to take his 
place, at a moment's warning, and perform his 
duties quite as well as the professor himself. This 
he was often known to do, to the admiration of 
circles of waiting pupils, who saw no other defer- 
ence between him and their regular professor in 
that branch than a manifest superiority of taste, 
accuracy, and profundity on the part of their ac 
complished president. 

Nor is this by any means the only example 



PARTICULAR STUDIES. 189 

which experience has furnished of the vital im- 
portance to individuals of diligence and faithfulness 
in pursuing every branch of their collegiate course. 
On the one hand, 1 have known a number of 
graduates of colleges, who, though in affluent cir- 
cumstances at the time of their graduation, were 
unexpectedly reduced to poverty, who found the 
genuine and ripe scholarship which they had been 
wise enough to acquire in college, a source of 
ample and honourable support as long as they 
lived. On the other hand, I have known many 
examples of young men who, with the best oppor- 
tunities, were lazy enough, or inconsiderate enough 
to make all their studies slight and superficial, and 
who afterwards found, to their mortification and 
loss, that they had not scholarship sufficient to 
qualify them for any of the situations to which 
they might otherwise have aspired, and which 
would have secured them both comfort and 
honour. 

I entreat you, then, my dear sons, not to cheat 
yourselves in regard to this matter. For, truly, 
every young man may be said to cheat himself, 
more than he cheats his teachers or his guardians, 
when he slights or neglects the study of any im- 
portant branch of knowledge which belongs to a 
liberal education. By so doing, he diminishes his 
own treasures, and lessens his own power, both of 
doing good, and of obtaining pre-eminence in life. 



190 PARTICULAR STUDIES. 

The more you can store your minds, with every 
species of useful knowledge, the better prepared 
you will be to "serve your generation by the will 
of God," and to attain that true honour among men, 
which the union of knowledge and virtue never 
fails to secure. 

But, notwithstanding this general principle, which 
ought to govern every student, it cannot be doubted 
that there are some branches of knowledge more 
radical in their value and influence than others, 
and which, therefore, ought to be cultivated with 
peculiar zeal and diligence. If, therefore, you ask 
me, which of all the studies prescribed in your col- 
legiate course, you ought to regard with especial 
favour, and to cultivate with special preference 
and labour, I would, without the least hesitation, 
say, they are the ancient languages, and 
mathematics. Study to be at home in all the 
branches prescribed for your course; but in these 
make a point of being strong, mature and rich. If 
you should be compelled, by feeble health, or by 
any other consideration, to pass more hastily than 
you could wish over any particular studies, let 
neither of these two be of the number. They are 
fundamental in all intellectual culture, and, when 
in any good degree mastered, diffuse an influence 
over all the other departments of knowledge which 
every good scholar will perceive, and which none 
but a good scholar can appreciate. 



PARTICULAR STUDIES. 191 

You are aware that some of the friends of liberal 
knowledge in general have laboured hard to de- 
press the claims of classical literature as an indis- 
pensable part even of a collegial course of study. 
But the longer I reflect on the subject, the deeper 
is my conviction that all such efforts are the result 
either of ignorance, or of that deplorable infatu- 
ation which is sometimes found to enslave the 
minds of men whose knowledge ought to have 
made them wiser. I am ready, indeed, to grant 
that the study of the Greek and Latin languages 
ought not to be enjoined on every youth who seeks 
to gain, in any degree, a literary and scientific 
education. If a young man should contemplate 
being a merchant, or an artist, or extensive planter, 
or a mechanic, I should by no means urge him to 
devote much of his time to the study of classic 
literature. Yet if even such an one had leisure for 
it, and could afford the expense, he might be better 
qualified to adorn and to enjoy the pursuit to 
which he devoted himself by the richest classical 
acquirements. Not only might he derive from that 
species of knowledge a rational and very elevated 
enjoyment by the gratification of taste; but he 
might be able to conduct his employment, what- 
ever it was, upon a more liberal scale; upon more 
improved principles; and with a taste and intelli- 
gence wholly unattainable without it. I would 
certainly say, then, to every young man who could 



192 PARTICULAR STUDIES. 

command the means for the purpose, "Whatever 
may be your contemplated pursuit in life, make a 
point of gaining as much classic literature as you 
can. It will be an ornament and a gratification to 
you as long as you live. It will enlarge your 
views, discipline your mind, augment your moral 
and intellectual power, and prepare you for more 
extensive and elevated usefulness." 

Such would be my address to every young man 
who had the opportunity of making the attainment 
in question. But, with respect to what is denomi- 
nated a "liberal education"— such an education as 
is commonly understood to be given in colleges, all 
intelligent men; — all except a few intellectual fana- 
tics — contend for classical literature as an indis- 
pensable part of the course. May it ever continue 
to be so! When colleges cease to make the study 
of Greek and Latin a necessary and a prominent 
part of their plan of instruction, I hope they will 
abandon their charters, and no longer perpetrate 
the mockery of conferring degrees. 

It is no longer, then, an open question, whether 
you shall devote some measure of your attention 
to the study of the Greek and Latin languages. 
You must be in some degree acquainted with this 
branch of knowledge if you would gain the 
honours of "the College of New Jersey." But I 
wish you, my dear sons, to go much further than 
this. It is my earnest desire and injunction that 



PARTICULAR STUDIES. 193 

you make the ancient languages an object of 
special attention; that in whatever else you are 
deficient, you make a point to be strong and 
thorough-going here. My reasons for this injunc- 
tion are the following: 

A knowledge of the laws of language, and of 
the right use of speech, may be said to be a radical 
matter, both in gaining and imparting all other 
kinds of knowledge. He who would express, on 
any subject, exactly what he means, and be able 
to know exactly what others mean, must have an 
exact acquaintance with the principles and powers 
of language. The study of the laws of written 
and vocal speech, therefore, must lie at the foun- 
dation of all intellectual teaching and attainment. 
This will be disputed by none who is qualified to 
judge in the case. 

Now it is impossible for any one to understand 
the essential principles of grammar, without being 
acquainted with more languages than one. All 
scholars are unanimous in maintaining this posi- 
tion. But if we must learn more languages than 
one, in order to comprehend the general laws 
which govern human speech, it is surely desi- 
rable to become acquainted with the most perfect 
languages with which the world has ever been 
favoured. In regard to those languages which 
have the highest claim to this character, there is 
great unanimity of opinion among learned men. 
17 



194 PARTICULAR STUDIES. 

All agree that among the languages within our 
reach the Greek and Latin are the most perfect 
instruments for the expression of human thought 
that the world has ever known. They are more 
precise and copious in their idioms; more rich and 
expressive in their vocabulary; more happy in 
their collocation; and more delicately clear, trans- 
parent and comprehensive in their whole structure 
than any other languages with which we are 
acquainted. "It is the appropriate praise of the 
best writers in those languages- that they present 
us with examples of the most exquisite beauty of 
thought and expression united with inimitable 
simplicity; that they scarcely ever present us with 
one idle or excrescent phrase or word; that they 
convey their meaning with a brevity, a directness, 
a clearness and a force which have never been 
exceeded. Their lines dwell upon our memory. 
Their sentences have the force of oracular maxims. 
Every part is vigorous, and very seldom can any 
thing be changed but for the worse. We wander 
in a scene where every thing is luxuriant, yet every 
thing vivid, graceful and correct." Surely, then, 
those who wish to become acquainted with the 
power of language as an instrument of thought; 
with the most delicate and discriminating shades 
of meaning which it is capable of expressing; with 
those happy turns of expression by which every 
thought may be conveyed in the most clear, direct 



PARTICULAR STUDIES. 195 

and forcible manner, can engage in no study better 
adapted to refine, enrich, and enlarge the mind, 
than that of those noble dialects, which served for 
so many ages as instruments of instruction and 
eloquence to the great master minds of the ancient 
world. Surely he who undervalues and neglects 
these languages, is chargeable with undervaluing 
and neglecting some of the noblest objects and 
means of knowledge that can well engage the 
attention of the student of literature or science. 

It is also worthy of serious consideration that 
Greek is the original language of part of the Holy 
Scriptures; and that a deep acquaintance with 
classical Greek is a most important accomplish- 
ment in one who undertakes to be a skilful inter- 
preter of the inspired volume. This consideration 
will not fail to be appreciated by every enlightened 
scholar, and especially by all who have in view the 
sacred office. 

Another important consideration here is often 
not duly regarded. In the Greek and Latin lan- 
guages there are hidden from the vulgar eye trea- 
sures of knowledge which are richly worthy of 
being explored, but which can never be fully laid 
open excepting to those who understand those 
languages. Ancient Greece and Rome furnish us 
with the finest models of history, of poetry, and of 
various objects of science and taste, which the 
world has ever possessed. To be ignorant of these 



196 PARTICULAR STUDIES. 

models, and of all the facts and principles of which 
they form the dress and the vehicle, is indeed to 
deprive ourselves of an amount of knowledge of 
which it is difficult adequately to estimate the 
value. Let none say that the noblest monuments 
of Grecian and Roman genius may be fully made 
known to us by translation. No competent judge 
of the matter ever imagined that this was possible. 
No ancient classic was ever so translated as to give 
an adequate idea of the original. The facts which 
they state may, indeed, be exhibited in a modern 
tongue; but their native exquisite beauties can 
never be expressed in such a manner as to be fully 
comprehended in another language. They must 
ever continue to be a hidden treasure to all but 
those who can hold communion with the language 
of the original writer. Aside, however, from the 
necessary imperfection of all translations from the 
Greek and Latin tongues, let it be remembered, 
that large stores of knowledge embodied in those 
languages have never been translated at all into 
English; and, of course, are entirely beyond the 
reach of the mere English reader. 

Besides; let it not be forgotten that some of the 
ablest productions of the seventeenth century, — 
that age of genius and of profound erudition, — 
were written in the Latin language. The most 
valuable treatises of Bacon, Newton, and other 
master spirits of that age first appeared in Latin. 



PARTICULAR STUDIES. 197 

Bat is it not humiliating to one claiming to be 
a scholar to be unable to commune with those 
eminent authors in their original dress? 

But more than this; we cannot really understand 
our own vernacular tongue without a knowledge 
of Greek and Latin. No one can take the slightest 
survey of the English language, or of any of the 
modern languages of Europe, without observing 
how largely all of them are made up of derivatives 
from Greek and Latin. We can scarcely utter a sen- 
tence, especially in any of the higher walks of dis- 
course, without using many terms the exact mean- 
ing of which cannot be adequately understood 
without a knowledge of the tongues from which 
they are derived. We may, indeed, without this 
knowledge, have some general idea of the mean- 
ing of the terms thus employed, but of their pre- 
cise meaning and force we cannot be adequate 
judges without knowing something of their etymo- 
logy. And hence, though we sometimes find those 
who never learned Greek or Latin, who speak 
and write their own language with force, and 
sometimes even with eloquence; yet, even in such 
speakers and writers, the real scholar may gene- 
rally discern the absence of that precision, appro- 
priateness and felicity of expression which can 
only be attained by familiarity with the ancient 
classics. 

Nor is even this all. When we turn to the 
17* 



19S PARTICULAR STUDIES. 

technical language of any one art or science in 
popular use, — the language for example, of Che- 
mistry, of Zoology, of Botany, of Mineralogy, of 
Geology, &c, we shall find it almost all borrowed 
from the Greek or Latin; and, of course, the stu- 
dents of these sciences, though they may, with 
great labour, learn the meaning of these terms by 
rote; yet how much better to begin the study with 
such a knowledge of the ancient classics as will 
save the toil of committing to memory the import 
of terms which, to the ear of the scholar, would 
proclaim their meaning as soon as pronounced. It 
is evident, therefore, that he who addresses him- 
self to the study of any of the branches of know- 
ledge of which I speak, having previously acquired 
a competent knowledge of Greek and Latin, will 
find his labour more than half abridged, and will 
proceed with more ease, with more intelligence, 
and with more accuracy at every step. 

If, then, you desire to obtain a clear knowledge 
and thorough mastery of language as an instru- 
ment of thought; if you desire to be really at home 
in your own language; if you wish to form a pure, 
precise, lucid, happy style; if you would furnish 
yourselves with a happy instrumentality for enter- 
ing and advantageously pursuing every other 
branch of knowledge; if you would become mas- 
ter, either in speaking or writing, of a rich, copious, 
exact, discriminating vocabulary; if you would 



PARTICULAR STUDIES. 199 

gain that knowledge of antiquity which will serve 
an invaluable purpose whatever your pursuits may 
be, and which in some professions is indispensable; 
if you would adopt one of the most effectual means 
for the discipline of the mind; if you desire to be 
able to read the best English classics with the 
highest degree of taste, pleasure, and profit; and if 
you would be furnished with some of the very 
finest means of ornament and illustration in all the 
higher walks of discourse; — make a point of being, 
as far as possible, propound and accurate clas- 
sical scholars. Rich attainments in this depart- 
ment of knowledge will shed a lustre and a glory 
over every other. They will render the study of 
every other more easy, more pleasant, and more 
valuable. They will enlarge your minds, and your 
power of applying them both usefully and orna- 
mentally, to an extent not easily measured. And if, 
in the providence of God, you should fail of success 
in any particular profession, a thorough knowledge 
of the classics will open a door to emolument and 
honour, in whatever part of the world, or in what- 
ever circumstances you may be thrown. Were I 
called upon to mention that accomplishment which, 
united with a fair moral and religious character, 
would most certainly secure to its possessor an ample 
and respectable support, I should undoubtedly say, 
it is that of a sound and accurate classical scholar. 
Let me enjoin it upon you, then, in every part 



200 PARTICULAR STUDIES. 

of your college course to pay special and unre- 
mitting attention to the Greek and Latin classics. 
Study some portion of them every day, whether 
your prescribed task requires it or not. Never pass 
over a sentence without analysing it thoroughly, 
and going to the bottom both of its terms and its 
connected import. Never let a week pass without 
engaging in both Greek and Latin composition. 
Familiarize yourselves to double translations, i. e. 
from these languages, and into them again. I 
hardly know a more rigorous and improving intel- 
lectual discipline than that of faithful and accurate 
translations from the ancient classics, and then, 
laying the book aside, attempting to restore the 
original. Be in the habit of committing to memory 
passages of remarkable significance and beauty in 
those languages; and think it not too much to form 
a little club of half a dozen fellow students for the 
purpose of speaking Latin, whenever you come 
together. If I had my collegial life to live over 
again, I would certainly make a point of forming 
such an association, and of being one of its mem- 
bers. Its members should spend an hour together 
at least once a week; and one of its strictest rules 
should be not to utter a single word in conversa- 
tion, when together, in any other language than 
Greek or Latin. This is a hint, rely upon it, wor- 
thy of regard. I have repeatedly been placed in 
circumstances in which 1 had no means of con- 



PARTICULAR STUDIES. 201 

versing with learned foreigners but in Latin. To 
be able to speak it with some degree of readiness, 
is not only a great convenience, but an elegant 
accomplishment. 

But while, among the regular studies of the col- 
lege, I unhesitatingly assign the first place in 
importance to classic literature, I must, with equal 
decision, assign the second place to mathematics, 
as one of those radical, governing studies which 
diffuse over the whole mind, and ah its acquire- 
ments, a salutary influence. 

It is a common thing for young men to dislike 
mathematics, and to consider a taste for this depart- 
ment of knowledge as the mark of a plodding and 
dull mind. They conceive of its principles as 
insufferably dry, and of its results as in a great 
measure useless. Hence they are often known to 
despise it, and to boast of their having no taste for 
it. But can it be that the science of numbers and 
quantity; the science which treats so essentially of 
the relations and proportions of things; the science 
which investigates and establishes truth by the 
closest possible reasoning, nay by the most rigid 
demonstration, can be a study of small value, or of 
doubtful benefit? Can it be that such a science, 
either in respect to its intrinsic character, or its 
influence on the minds of those who study it, can 
be of little use? None but the grossly ignorant 
can entertain such an opinion. The fact is, as the 



202 PARTICULAR STUDIES. 

study of language lies at the foundation of all 
accurate acquirement, and all successful communi- 
cation of knowledge; so the essential principles of 
mathematics, in the widest sense of that term, 
may be said to enter more deeply into all the pro- 
cesses of analysis and demonstrative reasoning, 
than can be stated in a short compass. The influ- 
ence of this branch of study on the intellectual 
powers is connected with the most salutary disci- 
pline. It prepares and accustoms the mind to 
examine the relations of things; to deduce and 
weigh evidence; to pursue close and rigid reason- 
ing; and to guard against the errors of false deduc- 
tion. Though you may never have much occasion 
in your future lives to make any direct use of the 
algebra or the geometry which you may acquire 
in college; though you may never be called upon 
to survey a piece of land, to conduct a ship on the 
ocean, to calculate a parallax, or an eclipse, or to 
estimate the height of a mountain, or the distance 
of a planet; though you may sometimes imagine, 
when you are required to repeat the demonstra- 
tions of Euclid, and to enter into the niceties of 
Integral and Differential Calculus, that they will 
never be of any use to you in time to come; — yet, 
be assured, there never was a greater mistake. No 
young man can pursue studies better adapted to 
enlarge and discipline his mind; to subject it to 
legitimate rule; to form the best reasoning habits; 



PARTICULAR STUDIES, 203 

to prepare him for analysing the most complicated 
subjects, and for. tracing and collecting the most 
complicated and diverging rays of evidence. In 
short, if I were perfectly sure that my sons would 
never have occasion while they lived to make any 
immediate practical use of a single mathematical 
study to which they devoted their time, I would 
still say, by all means study these subjects with 
persevering diligence and ardour. They will bene- 
fit your ininds, and facilitate the acquisition of 
other branches of knowledge in a thousand ways, 
of which you can now very imperfectly conceive. 
The mineralogist, the geologist, the chemist, and 
the professor of the healing art, often need to call 
mathematical science to their aid, as well as the 
surveyor, the navigator, and the practical astrono- 
mer. The advocate at the bar, in a multitude of 
cases, cannot do even tolerable justice,, either to his 
cause or his client, without an acquaintance with 
the principles of mathematics. And scarcely any 
department of natural philosophy can be advan- 
tageously studied, and some of them not at all, 
without the aid of this noble science. Accordingly, 
the author of " Lacon, or many things in few 
words," remarks, " He that gives a portion of his 
time and talent to the investigation of mathematical 
truth, will come to all other questions with a de- 
cided advantage over his opponents. He will be 
in argument what the ancient Romans were in the 



204 PARTICULAR STUDIES. 

field. To them the day of battle was a day of 
comparative recreation; because they were ever 
accustomed to exercise with arms much heavier 
than they fought; and their reviews differed from 
a real battle in two respects; they encountered 
more fatigue, but the victory was bloodless." — La- 
con, 336. 

The young man, then, who, in the course of his 
education, neglects or undervalues mathematics, 
betrays an ignorance and a narrowness of views 
of the most ignoble kind. He congratulates him- 
self, perhaps, on a conquest over his teachers, and 
on a happy escape from the demands of an un- 
welcome task. But he cheats and injures himself 
a thousand fold more than his teachers. He incurs 
a loss and a disadvantage which he can never 
repair. He foregoes a mental discipline, and a 
species of mental furniture, for the want of which 
nothing can adequately compensate. Rely upon 
it, the more radical and complete your mathe- 
matical attainments, the better fitted you will be 
for whatever profession you may choose; the 
greater will be your power to adorn, and to turn 
to the best account any profession; the more ample 
will be your capacity to serve either the church or 
the world in your generation. 

I return, then, to the maxim with which I began. 
Aim, as far as possible, to stand at the head of 
your fellow students in every study. Neglect 



PARTICULAR STUDIES. 205 

none: slight none. It is impossible to decide con- 
cerning any one of them that it will not be of 
essential use to you in after life. But if you are 
emulous to excel in any particular branches, let 
them by all means be those which I have specified. 
You may be incredulous now of the entire truth of 
what has been advanced; but by and by you will 
see and acknowledge it all. Let me warn you 
against postponing to admit and realize this until 
it be too late. For if you fail of making the 
acquirements in question before the close of your 
course in college, you will, in all probability, never 
make them at all. 



18 



206 



LETTER XII. 

GENERAL READING. 

"Nihil legebat quod non excerperet." — Plin. Epist. 
"Ex animi relaxatione divitias contrahere." — Anon. 

My Dear Sons, 

I take for granted that your reading will not be 
confined to your class-books. If you possess any 
measure of that love of knowledge, and of that 
activity and enlargement of mind which every 
member of a college must be expected, as a mat- 
ter of course, to desire and aim at, you will endea- 
vour to carry along with you, through all your 
college exercises, some portion of what is called 
general reading;— that is, a kind and an amount 
of reading which may contribute toward rendering 
you, not a mere academical student, but a liberal 
and general scholar. 

I also hope that you will see the importance of 
subjecting this course of general reading to some 
digested plan, to a sound and discreet system of 
rules. Surely one who wishes to make the most 
of the powers that God has given him, and to reach 



GENERAL READING. 207 

the highest attainments in knowledge, reputation 
and usefulness, ought not to surrender himself in 
this matter, or in any thing else, to the government 
of caprice, or of temporary and spasmodic feeling. 
Nothing is likely to be well done which is not con- 
ducted on a plan. I hope, therefore, my dear sons, 
you will listen to some counsels which I have to 
give you on this subject. They may not in all re- 
spects accord with your taste or your wishes; but 
they are the result of some experience, and they 
are offered with the sincerest desire to promote 
your highest honour and happiness. 

I take for granted, indeed, that the studies pre- 
scribed by your instructors will be attended to first 
of all, and will never be neglected. These have 
the first claim on your time and attention, and can- 
not without serious delinquency be postponed to 
any incidental or capricious pursuit. We are ac- 
customed to adopt as a maxim, that a man ought 
to be just before he is generous. So, in the case 
before us— he who suffers himself to be drawn away 
to excursive and miscellaneous objects of attention, 
while the studies of his class are neglected, may 
give himself credit for liberality and enlargement 
of mind; but he is guilty of a fraud on himself as 
well as on his instructors, and will find in the end 
that here, as well as everywhere else, "honesty is 
the best policy." But I hope your attention to the 
studies of your class will be so prompt, so zealous, 



208 GENERAL READING. 

and so seasonably completed, as to allow you some 
portion of time every day for the reading of which 
I speak. 

Let your general reading, then, be such as is 
adapted to be useful. Think of the great ends of 
education. They are to form proper intellectual 
and moral habits, and to fill the mind with solid, 
laudable knowledge. And as life is so short, and 
the field of knowledge so very extensive, we can- 
not, of course, know every thing; we cannot find 
time to read all the books which are worthy of 
being read. Of the many within our reach we 
must make a selection; and that this selection 
ought to be made with discrimination and judg- 
ment, needs no formal proof. The studies pre- 
scribed by authority for your classes will occupy, 
I trust, with indefatigable diligence, the greater 
part of your time. Need I employ argument to 
convince you that the reading destined to occupy 
the interstitial spaces of your time not filled with 
prescribed studies, should be of a kind adapted to 
unbend, and, at the same time, to enlighten, to en- 
large and invigorate the mind, and to add to the 
amount of its valuable furniture. 

And here, I trust, it is unnecessary to put you on 
your guard against all that reading which is adapted 
to corrupt the principles and the heart. Were I to 
hear that, under the guise of enlarged and liberal 
reading, you were, in your leisure moments, poring 



GENERAL READING. 209 

over the pages of Voltaire, Helvetius, and other 
similar writers, I should consider you as under an 
awful delusion, and be ready to weep over you, 
as probably lost to virtue and happiness, to say 
nothing of piety. The writers to whom I have 
referred were vile men, who devoted their learning 
and talents to the worst purposes; who lived in 
misery and died in despair themselves; and whose 
lives and works were adapted to corrupt and de- 
stroy all who held intercourse with them. Say 
not, that he who is forming his opinions, ought to 
be willing to examine such writers, and see what 
they have to say for themselves. I should just as 
soon regard with patience him who should tell me, 
that I ought to examine and re-examine whether 
theft, lying, adultery and murder were really wrong, 
and whether it was not a mere prejudice to regard 
them as crimes. No, my sons, be assured such 
writers can do you nothing but harm. Their impiety 
and complicated corruption may make you despise 
your species, doubt of every thing, hate your duty, 
and turn away from all the sober principles of action 
and of enjoyment; but, believe me, they will never 
make you wiser or happier men. Their specula- 
tions may be compared to the operation of poison 
received into the animal system, which, as long as 
it is lodged there, can never fail to excite morbid 
action, but which can seldom or never be wholly 
IS* 



210 GENERAL READING. 

expelled. Whatever may be the effect of your 
reading such books, the result cannot but be un- 
happy. If you adopt the errors which they con- 
tain, they will be your destruction for time and 
eternity; for they will destroy all sober principle, 
and all fitness to be useful in life. And even if 
your moral constitution should be enabled to resist 
and overcome the poison, it will leave many an 
ache and pain, and lay the foundation of many a 
morbid feeling as long as you live. 

You ought, then, to be as choice of your books 
for what is called general reading, as the prudent 
man who is in delicate health feels bound to be 
in the selection of his articles of aliment. There is 
a wide range of reading, comprehending what may 
properly be called English classics, with which 
every educated man is expected to have some 
acquaintance. None of the works belonging to 
this catalogue are class-books, in the technical sense 
of that phrase. Of course they are not included in 
your prescribed studies; and unless you gain some 
knowledge of them by extra reading, you must 
leave college without being acquainted with them. 
This would be at once a disreputable deficiency, 
and a serious impediment in the way of your 
making the most of your college course. Surely 
before you leave college you ought to be able to 
write in your own language with elegance and 
force: but how are you to acquire this power with- 



GENERAL READING. 211 

out a familiar acquaintance with some of the best 
writers of that language? 

To the list of authors of whom I thus speak, 
belong Bacon, Shakspeare and Milton, of the seven- 
teenth century, and Addison, Steele, Pope, Thomp- 
son, Young, Goldsmith, Johnson, Cowner, Beattie, 
and a number of others, of the eighteenth; to which 
may be added Clarendon, Robertson, Hume, and 
several more who have figured as votaries of the 
historic muse. In this catalogue I have forborne 
to insert the names of some writers greatly distin- 
guished as theologians, because, however worthy 
of universal study, popular feeling does not gene- 
rally require that they should be the objects of 
youthful study. But there are two works, even of 
this class, which I cannot help singling out as indis- 
pensable objects of attention on the part of all culti- 
vated thinkers. I refer to Butler's Analogy, and 
Edwards's treatise on the Will. What would be 
thought of an educated young man who had no 
acquaintance with any of the eminent writers just 
named but by hearsay? True, indeed, a few of 
these writers are not wholly unexceptionable in 
regard to the moral character of some of their 
pages; but their intellectual and literary eminence 
is transcendent; and when read with discrimination 
and caution, the youthful aspirant to knowledge 
and eloquence may derive from them the richest 
advantages. The truth is, without an acquaintance 



212 GENERAL READING. 

with the mass of these writers, you cannot appre- 
ciate the riches, the beauties, or the purity of your 
vernacular tongue, or hope successfully to train 
yourselves to a good style of writing. In these 
writers, too, you will find a great store-house of 
fine sentiment, as well as of happy diction, adapted 
greatly to enlarge and elevate the mind, to impart 
to it the highest polish, and to prepare it for its best 
efforts. No matter what the profession may be to 
which you intend to devote your lives. In any 
and every walk of life you will find a familiarity 
with these English classics of inestimable value. 
No man ever heard Alexander Hamilton or Daniel 
Webster plead at the bar, without perceiving the 
potency of the weapons which they continually 
derived from their acquaintance with this class of 
writings. Who ever listened to the speeches of 
John Quincy Adams, or Henry Clay, or any of their 
noble compeers, in the Senate-house, without recog- 
nising how largely this department of reading 
added to the riches, the fascination, and the power 
of their eloquence? It might be supposed, at first 
view, that the masters of the healing- art could 
derive but little aid, either in practising or teaching 
their favourite science, from an intimate acquaint- 
ance with the best English classics. But the 
slightest acquaintance with the most distinguished 
medical writers and teachers of Great Britain, will 
show the egregious error of this estimate. And 



GENERAL READING. 213 

who ever attended the lectures or perused the writ- 
ings of Doctor Rush, of our own country, not to 
mention others still living, without perceiving what 
grace and power this kind of knowledge imparted to 
all the products of his lips and his pen? With respect 
to the pulpit, I will not insult your understandings 
by attempting to show that the large and general 
reading of which I speak is of inestimable value in 
its bearing on the matter as well as the manner of 
the instructions given from week to week by those 
who occupy the sacred desk. In short, he who 
expects to be able to address his fellow men, in 
any situation, or on any subject, in an attractive 
and deeply impressive manner, without the diligent 
study of the principles and powers of the language 
in which he speaks or writes, cherishes a vain 
expectation. And he who imagines that these 
principles and powers are to be learned without 
the careful study of those writers who have fur- 
nished the best examples of both, might as well 
hope to " gather grapes of thorns, or figs of this- 
tles/' 

If you are wise, then, you will devote all those 
hours which you can spare from your prescribed 
studies to books which you can turn to rich account 
in disciplining and enlarging your minds, and in 
filling them with solid furniture. Something, in- 
deed, in making your selection, is to be referred to 
personal taste; for that reading which is not pursued 



214 GENERAL READING. 

con amore, as well as with close attention, will 
profit you little; but still judgment ought to be per- 
mitted to step in and regulate the taste. He who 
refuses to do this, and consults his inclination, for 
the time being alone, will, no doubt, live and die a 
very small and probably useless man. 

In prescribing a plan for general reading for 
students in college, there is one question which I 
presume you will not fail to ask, and which I wish to 
anticipate and answer in this little system of coun- 
sels. The question is, whether novels ought to 
have any place in the list of books assigned for the 
" general reading" of students? This is a question 
of exceeding great importance. When I was my- 
self a student in a college, more than half a century 
ago, it was far less interesting and momentous as 
a practical matter than it has now become. At 
that time the number of this class of writings was 
so small, and their popular circulation, compara- 
tively, so inconsiderable, that their influence was 
scarcely worthy of notice compared with that which 
they now exert, and which they are every day ex- 
tending. What amount of prevalence and of in- 
fluence they are to reach at last, is one of those 
painful portents on which I dare not allow my 
mind to dwell. In the mean time, with all the 
solicitude of a father's heart, I will offer you some 
counsels which, "whether you will hear or whether 



GENERAL READING. 215 

you will forbear," appear to me worthy of your 
most serious regard. 

That the form of fictitious history to which the 
name of novel* is given, is not necessarily and in 
its own nature criminal, will probably be acknow- 
ledged by all. Nay, that it may, when constructed 
on prop'er principles, and executed in a proper 
manner, be made productive of solid utility, is too 
plain to be doubted. It was on this principle that 
the infinitely wise Author of our holy religion fre- 
quently adopted the form of parable for communi- 
cating the most important truths to his hearers. 
And on the same principle, some of the wisest 
human teachers have used the vehicle of lively and 

* Many do not seem to make the proper distinction between the 
terms Romance and Novel. Yet there is a distinction between 
them which ought to be kept up. Romance seems properly ap- 
plicable only to a narrative of extraordinary adventures, not merely 
fictitious, but wild, extravagant, improbable, far removed from com- 
mon life, if not bordering on the supernatural; while the word 
Novel, more strictly, and by exact speakers and writers, is in- 
tended to express that species of fictitious writing which professes 
to instruct or entertain by describing common life and real cha- 
racters. The earliest fictitious narratives were chiefly of the 
former kind. They abounded in stories of giants, dragons, en- 
chanted castles, fairies, ghosts, and all the heroic absurdities of 
knight-errantry. The aim of those who have figured most in the 
more recent class of fictitious narrative called novels, has been to 
describe the natural and probable exhibitions of real life, and of 
modern manners, and to instruct by the ordinary scenes of social 
and domestic intercourse. 



216 GENERAL READING. 

interesting fiction, known to be such at the time, 
for insinuating into the mind moral and religious 
lessons which, in a different form, might not so 
readily have gained admittance. It is obvious, 
then, that to this kind of writing, as such, there can 
be no solid objection. Novels might be so written 
as to promote the cause of knowledge, virtue and 
piety; to lead the mind insensibly from what is 
sordid and mean to more worthy pursuits, and to 
inspire it with elevated and worthy sentiments. 
Nay, it may be conceded that out of the myriads of 
novels with which the literary world has been 
deluged, a few are, in fact, in some degree entitled 
to this character, and adapted to produce these 
effects. 

But the great unhappiness of modern times in 
regard to this subject is two-fold; first, in multi- 
plying works of this kind until they bear an inor- 
dinate and injurious proportion in the current 
literature of the day; and, secondly, in constructing 
many of them upon a plan adapted to degrade 
virtue and piety, and even to recommend vice, 
and, of course, to prove seductive and immoral in 
their whole influence. 

Even when such works are perfectly unexcep- 
tionable in their moral character; when they are 
wholly free from any thing corrupt, either in lan- 
guage or sentiment, they may be productive of 
incalculable mischief, if, as now, they are issued 



GENERAL READING. 217 

in excessive numbers and quantity. Leaving the 
character of modern novels entirely out of the 
question, the enormous number of them, which for 
the last half century has been every day increasing, 
has become a grievous intellectual and moral nui- 
sance. As long as they were few in number, and 
were regarded, not as the substance, but only as 
the seasoning of the literary feast, they occupied 
but a small portion of public attention. The chief 
time and attention of the reading portion of the 
community were mainly devoted to works of sub- 
stantial value, fitted to strengthen, enlarge, and 
enrich the mind. But within the last thirty or 
forty years, the number of works of this class has 
multiplied so rapidly; they have become so promi- 
nent and alluring a part of the current literature of 
the day; and by their stimulating and inexhaust- 
ible variety, have so drawn away the minds of 
the aged as well as the young from solid works, 
that they have come to form the principal reading 
of a large portion of the community, and, of course, 
have become a snare and an injury to an extent 
not easily calculated. As long as exhilarating 
gases, or other stimulating substances, are ad- 
minstered sparingly, and as medicines, they may 
be altogether harmless, and even essentially useful. 
But, when those who have taken them for some 
time in this manner, become so enamoured with 
them as to be no longer satisfied with their mode- 
19 



218 GENERAL READING. 

rate and salutary use, but make them their daily 
and principal aliment, they become inevitably mis- 
chievous. They destroy the tone of the stomach, 
and, in the end, radically undermine the health. 

So it is with the insidious excitement of novels. 
Were a young man to take none of them into his 
hands but those which might be safely pronounced 
pure and innocent; and were he certain that he 
would never be tempted to go beyond the most 
moderate bounds in seeking and perusing even 
such, there would, perhaps, be little danger to be 
apprehended. But no one can be thus certain of 
either. The general stimulus of fictitious narrative, 
as actually administered, is morbid and mischie- 
vous. It excites the mind, but cannot fill or nourish 
it. The probability is, that he who allows himself 
to enter this course, will be led on, like the mise- 
rable tippler, from one stage of indulgence to ano- 
ther, until his appetite is perverted; his power of 
self-denial and self-government lost; and his ruin 
finally sealed; or, at least, his mind so completely 
indisposed and unfitted for the sober realities of 
practical wisdom, for the pursuits of solid science 
and literature, as to be consigned to the class of 
superficial drivellers as long as he lives. 

The truth is, novels— even the purest and best 
of them — with very few exceptions, are adapted, 
not to instruct, but only to amuse; not to enrich 
or strengthen the mind, but only to exhilarate it. 



GENERAL READING. 219 

They bear very much the same relation to genuine 
mental aliment, that the alcoholic dram does to 
solid food. They ever enervate the mind. They 
generate a sickliness of fancy, and render the ordi- 
nary affairs and duties of life altogether uninterest- 
ing and insipid. After wading through hundreds 
of the most decent and popular volumes belonging 
to this class — what has been gained? After con- 
suming so many months of precious time — time 
which can never be recalled — in this reading — 
what has been acquired? what has been laid up 
for future use? Nothing — absolutely nothing! Not 
a trace of any thing really useful has been left 
behind. The days and nights devoted to their pe- 
rusal have been lost — totally lost. What infatuation 
is it for a rational creature, who is sent into the 
world for serious and important purposes, and who 
is hastening to a solemn account, thus to waste 
precious time; and, what is worse, thus to pervert 
his mind, and, in a greater or less degree, to dis- 
qualify himself for sober employments! The cele- 
brated Dr. Goldsmith, in writing to his brother, 
respecting the education of his son, expresses him- 
self in the following strong terms, which are the 
more remarkable as he himself had written one of 
the most popular novels: — "Above all things, never 
let your son touch a romance or novel. These 
paint beauty in colours more charming than na- 
ture, and describe happiness that man never tastes. 



220 GENERAL READING. 

How delusive, how destructive are those pictures of 
consummate bliss! They teach the youthful mind 
to sigh after beauty and happiness which never 
existed, to despise the little good which fortune has 
mixed in our cup, by expecting more than she 
ever gave; and, in general, take the word of a man 
who has seen the world, and has studied human 
nature more by experience than precepts — take 
my word for it, I say, that such books teach us very 
little of the world."* He might have gone further 
and said, they teach us little of any thing worth 
knowing, and so pervert the taste as to take away 
all relish for applying the mind to any thing sober 
or useful. Often have I known young men so 
bewitched by novels that they could read nothing 
else. They sought for new works of this class in 
every direction; devoured them with insatiable 
avidity; lost all relish for their regular prescribed 
studies; neglected those studies more and more; 
and at length closed their college course miserable 
scholars, and utterly unqualified for any sober 
pursuit. 

But there is another source of evil in this de- 
partment of literature, still more serious and for- 
midable. A very large proportion of modern 
novels are far from being innocent. They are 
positively seductive and corrupting in their ten- 

* Life of Goldsmith, prefixed to his Miscellaneous Works. 



GENERAL READING. 221 

dency. They make virtue to appear contemptible, 
and vice attractive, honourable and triumphant. 
Folly and crime have palliative and even com- 
mendatory names bestowed upon them. The 
omnipotence of love over all obligations and all 
duties, is continually maintained, and the extrava- 
gance of sinful passion represented as the effect 
of amiable sensibility. That some ladies, and even 
titled ladies, have appeared in the lists of author- 
ship of such works, is one of the mournful indica- 
tions of the taste of the present day, and no une- 
quivocal testimony of the danger of this class of 
writings. And though works of this character 
may be, at first, contemplated with abhorrence, no 
one can tell how soon the mind may be gradually 
and insidiously reconciled to them, by familiarity 
with their pestiferous and infectious sentiments. 

There, is, indeed, a portion of modern novels 
which millions of the young and the old have read 
with eager delight, and pronounced not only inno- 
cent but useful; adapted to enlarge our knowledge 
of human nature, and to inspire generous and 
benevolent sentiments. These are the numerous 
works of this class by Sir Walter Scott, and the 
later and less celebrated, but highly popular works 
of Mr. Dickens, of South Britain. With regard to 
the former, I am constrained to say, that my esti- 
mate is less favourable than that of many who 
admire and praise them. Of the great talents of 
19* 



222 GENERAL READING. 

Sir Walter Scott, as evinced in these and other 
writings, no competent judge can entertain a 
doubt; and that his novels abound in elevated 
sentiments, in graphic delineation, and in powerful 
diction from which the aspirant to high literary 
and moral excellence may learn much, is equally 
evident. But those who read intelligently such 
of his works as profess to take a retrospect of 
Scottish history, interwoven with fiction, if capable 
of making a proper estimate of the times and 
characters which he undertakes to portray, will 
perceive that the writer arrays himself against the 
patriotism and the piety of some of the best men 
that ever adorned the history of his country; that 
he exhibits orthodoxy and zeal under the guise of 
enthusiasm and fanaticism; that he strives to cover 
with dishonour "men of whom the world was not 
worthy," and to elevate and canonize their perse- 
cutors. In short, that the general influence of his 
works is wholly unfriendly to religion. These 
characteristics pervade some of the most popular 
of his novels. Ought I, can I, consistently with 
the most sacred obligations, advise that such books 
be put into the hands of inexperienced and unsus- 
pecting youth, unaware of danger, and at an age, 
and in circumstances most likely to receive serious 
injury? 

The later and highly popular novels of Mr. 
Dickens, are not liable to the most serious of these 



GENERAL READING. 223 

objections, They abound in just, and sometimes in 
striking sentiments, strongly and happily expressed; 
and they lay open pictures of real life, chiefly of 
the most sordid, vulgar and vile character, well 
adapted to impart to youthful readers a knowledge 
of the world, and especially of the selfish, fraud- 
ulent, and degraded world. This is the most 
favourable side of the portrait. The most serious 
objections are, that they render the youthful mind 
familiar with the ingenuity and the arts of low and 
vulgar crime; that they introduce their readers as it 
were behind the scenes in the drama of systematic 
and revolting wickedness; and while they tend, 
more than most writings of this class, to absorb the 
mind, and give it a distaste for solid knowledge, 
they impart nothing which can be considered as an 
equivalent for that which is lost. 

Estimating novels, then, not as they might be 
made, but as they are in fact, it may be asserted 
that there is no species of reading which, habitu- 
ally and promiscuously pursued, has a more direct 
tendency to dissipate and weaken the intellectual 
powers; to discourage the acquisition of valuable 
knowledge; to fill the mind with vain, unnatural 
and delusive ideas; and to deprave the moral taste. 
It would, perhaps, be difficult to assign any single 
cause which has contributed so much to produce 
that lightness and frivolity which so remarkably 
characterize the literary taste of the nineteenth cen- 



224 GENERAL READING. 

tury, as the unexampled multiplication, and the 
astonishing popularity of this class of writings. 

I have, therefore, no hesitation, my dear sons, in 
saying, that, if it were practicable, I would wholly 
exclude novels from your general reading; not 
because there are none which may be perused with 
some profit; but because the hope that, out of the 
polluted and pestiferous mass continually presented 
to the youthful mind, a tolerably wise choice will 
generally, or even in many instances, be made, can 
scarcely be thought a reasonable hope. If I could 
hope to succeed, then, in such counsel, I would say, 
throw away all your novels. If you wish to form 
a sober, practical, robust intellectual character, 
throw them all away; banish them from your study. 
They will never help you in reaching either useful- 
ness or solid fame. 

As, however, these fictitious productions are 
strewed around us in such profusion, and will more 
or less excite the curiosity of youth, the plan of 
total exclusion is seldom practicable. In these 
circumstances it is, perhaps, the wisest course to 
endeavour to restrain and regulate the curiosity 
which cannot be wholly repressed, and to exercise 
the utmost vigilance in making a proper choice for 
its gratification, and in restricting this gratification 
within the smallest possible bounds. For it may, 
with confidence, be pronounced, that no one was 
ever an extensive, and especially an habitual 



GENERAL READING. 225 

reader of novels, even supposing them all to be 
well selected, without suffering both intellectual 
and moral injury, and, of course, incurring a 
diminution of happiness. 

But the trash which is everywhere spread 
around the youth of our land under the name of 
novels, is not the only form of light reading that is 
adapted to dissipate the mind, to degrade the taste, 
and to work intellectual and moral injury in all 
who yield to the prevalent mania. The time that 
is devoted by the young men in our literary insti- 
tutions to the perusal of literary and political jour- 
nals, of magazines, and the multiplied forms of 
light periodicals, which everywhere solicit their 
attention, forms so serious an evil, that every stu- 
dent who values his time, and desires to attain the 
solid improvement of his talents, ought to be aware 
of it, and, from the outset of his course, to be on his 
guard against it. The fact is, the number of ephe- 
meral periodicals has become so enormously great, 
and every day so importunately solicit the attention 
of those who have any taste for reading, that they 
leave little time for studying any thing better. Nor 
is this all. They distract the attention of the stu- 
dent; seduce him from scources of more profound, 
systematic, and useful information; and are fitted 
to form pedants and index-hunters, rather than 
men of real erudition. On this account, the read- 
ing of literary young men, within the last forty or 



226 GENERAL READING. 

fifty years, has become far less solid than formerly. 
Many of the best works of the seventeenth and 
eighteenth centuries have been crowded out of 
view by compends, compilations, and a thousand 
ephemeral productions; not merely because the 
taste for better works has been in a great measure 
lost, by superficial habits; but because the number 
of these ephemeral and catchpenny trifles is so 
great as absolutely to leave little time, and, in many 
cases, no time for any thing better. 

There is no doubt that the seventeenth century 
was the age of genius. The eighteenth, it is ac- 
knowledged, exceeded it in taste; but in original 
powerful thinkers, the seventeenth appears to me to 
stand unrivaled. He who will look over the list of 
the eminent men who, during that century, adorned 
Great Britain and the continent of Europe, will be, 
I cannot doubt, of the opinion, that no such cata- 
logue can be found in any other age of the last 
eighteen hundred years. To say nothing of the 
illustrious divines who distinguished that period, 
who can recollect the names of Bacon, Shakspeare, 
Newton, Selden, Boyle, Hale, Locke, Milton, Coke, 
Des Cartes, Grotius, Leibnitz, Galileo, theBernoulis, 
and many more, without feeling that they were 
among the mightiest minds that the world ever 
saw? These men were the great original thinkers 
of modern times; and certainly those who allow 
themselves to be ignorant of their works, forego 



GENERAL READING. 227 

one of the richest means of enlightening and invi- 
gorating the mind within their reach. How unwise, 
then, are those youth, who, while they profess to 
be students, profess to be seeking the best improve- 
ment of their talents, the bes,t preparation to shine 
in the highest walks of life, really adopt a course 
adapted to make them superficial trirlers; instead of 
men of solid, profound and powerful accomplish- 
ments. Rely upon it, if you wish to take rank with 
any of the eminent men whose names have been 
mentioned as adorning the seventeenth century, or 
even with many who have appeared in our own 
country within the last fifty years; you must devote 
yourselves, as they did, to solid, systematic, and 
unwearied study, and not waste your time with 
the periodicals and compends which may, from time 
to time, engage the popular attention. 

After writing the above, I was not a little grati- 
fied to find my opinion confirmed by so competent 
an authority as that of Judge Story, of Massa- 
chusetts, whose taste, scholarship, and sound judg- 
ment impart peculiar weight to his decisions on 
such a subject, especially when it is recollected that 
none who know him will ascribe to him that ten- 
dency to puritanical rigour that may be thought 
by some to be allied to such counsels as have been 
expressed. 

In a late discourse, addressed to the Alumni of 
his Alma Mater, in which he treats of " the dan- 



22S GENERAL READING. 

gers, the difficulties, and the duties of scholars in 
our own age, and especially in our own country ," 
that eminent scholar and jurist delivers the follow- 
ing opinions, which I hope you will seriously con- 
sider. 

" Who that looks around him does not perceive, 
what a vast amount of the intellectual power and 
energy of our own country is expended, not to say 
exhausted, upon temporary and fugitive topics, — 
upon occasional addresses — upon light and fantas- 
tic compositions — upon manuals of education, and 
hand-books of instruction, — upon annotations and 
excerpts, — and upon the busy evanescent discus- 
sions of politics, which fret their hour upon the 
stage, or infest the halls of legislation. Need we 
be told that honours thus acquired melt away at 
the very moment when we grasp them; that some 
new wonder will soon usurp their place; and, in 
its turn, will be chased away or dissolved by the 
next bubble or flying meteor? I know that it has 
sometimes been said, that < Nothing popular can 
be frivolous; and that what influences multitudes 
must be of proportionate importance.' A more 
dangerous fallacy, lurking under the garb of philo- 
sophy, could scarcely be stated. There would be 
far more general truth in the statement of the very 
reverse proposition. Our lecture-rooms and ly- 
ceums are crowded, day after day, and night after 
night, with those who seek instruction without 



GENERAL READING. 229 

labour, and demand improvement without effort. 
We have abundance of zeal, and abundance of 
curiosity enlisted in the cause, with little aim at 
solid results, or practical ends. It seems no longer 
necessary, in the view of many persons, for students 
to consume their midnight lamps in pale and pa- 
tient researches, — or in communing with the master 
spirits of other days, — or in interrogating the his- 
tory of the past, — or in working out, with a hesi- 
tating progress, the problem of human life. An 
attendance upon a few courses of lectures upon 
science, or art, or literature, amidst brilliant gas 
lights, or brilliant experiments, or brilliant dis- 
courses of accomplished rhetoricians, are deemed 
satisfactory substitutes for hard personal study, in 
all the general pursuits of life. Nay, the capital 
stock thus acquired may be again retailed out to 
less refined audiences, and give ready fame and 
profit to the second-hand adventurer. 

" It is an old saying, that there is no royal road 
to learning; and it is just as true now as it was 
two thousand years ago. Knowledge, deep, tho- 
rough, accurate, must be sought, and can be found, 
only by strenuous labour, not for months, but for 
years; not for years, but for a whole life. What 
lies on the surface is easily seen, and easily mea- 
sured. What lies below is slowly reached, and 
must be cautiously examined. The best ore may 
often require to be sifted and purified. The dia- 
20 



230 GENERAL READING. 

mond slowly receives its polish under the hands of 
the workman, and then only gives out its sparkling 
lights. The very marble whose massy block is 
destined to immortalize some great name, reluc- 
tantly yields to the chisel; and years must elapse 
before it becomes (as it were) instinct with life, 
and stands forth the breathing image of the ori- 
ginal. 

" It cannot admit of the slightest doubt (at least 
in my judgment) that the habit of desultory and 
miscellaneous reading, thus created, has a neces- 
sary tendency to enervate the mind, and to destroy 
all masculine thinking. Works of a solid cast, 
which require close attention and exact know- 
ledge to grapple with them, are thrown aside, as 
dull and monotonous. We apologize to ourselves 
for our neglect of them, that they may be taken 
up at a more convenient season; or we flatter our- 
selves that we have sufficiently mastered their con- 
tents and merits from the last Review, although, 
in many cases, it may admit of a doubt, whether 
the critic himself has ever read the work. With- 
out stopping to inquire, how many of the whole 
class of literary readers now study with thoughtful 
diligence the standard writers in our own language, 
and are not content with abridgments, or manuals, 
or extracts, I would put it to those who are engaged 
in the learned professions, and have the most strin- 
gent motives for deep, thorough, and exact know- 



GENERAL READING. 231 

ledge,— I would put it to them to say, how many 
of their whole number devote themselves to the 
study of the great masters of their profession? 
How many of them can, in the sober language of 
truth, say, we are at home in the pages of our pro- 
foundest authors; — we not only possess them to 
enrich our libraries, but we devote ourselves to the 
daily consultation of them. They are beside us at 
our firesides, and they cheer our evening studies. 
We live and breathe in the midst of their laborious 
researches, and systematical learning?"* 

Such are the sentiments of this eminent man. 1 
know that, in your sober judgment, you cannot 
but approve them. If so, let it be seen that you 
begin now, even within the college walls, to waste 
as little time as possible on the ephemeral trifles of 
the day, and to employ as much as possible on 
those rich works of classical character and value, 
every one of which will add something to your 
permanent stores of intellectual wealth. 

But if you wish to profit much by this counsel, 
you must have a plan about it. Resolve, then, 
that you will be a sparing reader of periodicals of 
every kind. Seldom allow yourselves to employ 
many minutes over a newspaper, unless it be to 
peruse a great speech, or some other document of 



* A Discourse delivered before the Society of the Alumni of 
Harvard University. By Joseph Story, LL. D., p. 16-22. 



232 GENERAL READING. 

more than common interest. A large part of the 
reading furnished by our newspapers is of a highly 
demoralizing character; and the greater portion of 
those which belong to the penny class, are most 
polluting in their tendency. Turn from magazines 
and novels as you would from a suspicious, not to 
say, an infected region; touching none of them, or, 
if any, none but a few of the best, and devoting as 
little time as possible even to them. Keep con- 
stantly at your elbow, in a course of reading, some 
English classic, adapted at once to cultivate your 
taste and add to your stock of knowledge; and to 
be taken up when your prescribed labour is termi- 
nated. How much better to have a system of this 
sort, than to pass the hours of relaxation from the 
studies of your class, either in perfect idleness and 
ennui, or in reading the most worthless, not to say 
the vilest trash, that is so often engaging the atten- 
tion of students who profess to aim at the attain- 
ment of liberal knowledge! If the plan I have 
recommended, or any thing like it, were faithfully 
pursued, every student of college, before the close 
of his regular course, would be familiar with the 
best masters of sentiment, of diction, and of know- 
ledge that the English language affords. 

But I hope you will not confine your general 
reading to the English language. That student in 
college is greatly wanting to himself, who, in the 
present extended, and greatly extending inter- 



GENERAL READING. 233 

course among nations, does not labour, as far as 
possible, to become acquainted with several modern 
languages, and especially with the French and 
German. The subserviency of these languages to 
professional eminence and success is obvious. I 
have repeatedly known lawyers and physicians 
who resided in populous places, submit, late in 
life, to the labour of acquiring both these lan- 
guages, because they perceived that the possession 
of them would serve as an introduction to a large 
portion of lucrative business. How much better 
would it have been for such persons to have ac- 
quired a knowledge of these languages in college; 
at an age when a new language is more easily 
gained than in more advanced life, and when the 
range of its utility would have been far greater! I 
rejoice to know that you have not been inattentive 
to the languages specified, and that you are in 
some measure prepared to avail yourselves of the 
benefits to which they may be made subservient. 

Let a part of your general reading be in those 
languages; as well for the enlargement of your 
knowledge, as for the increase of your familiarity 
with different dialects. In French, read such 
works as Fenelon , s Telemaque; the sermons of 
Massillon, Bossuet, Bourdaloue, and Saurin; 
Voltaire's Steele de Louis XIV. et XV., and 
Histoire de Charles XI L, and his La Henriade, 
(avoiding the great mass of the other works of that 
20* 



234 GENERAL READING. 

profligate infidel;) together with the works of 
Chateaubriand, Lamartine, Be Tocqueville, Gui- 
zot, and Ballanche, of the present day, and espe- 
cially Professor Merle d'Aubigne's Histoire de 
la Reformation, a most instructive and graphic 
work, and to read which in the original it would 
be well worth while to acquire the French lan- 
guage. 

With regard to German reading, my knowledge 
is too scanty to enable me to speak in a very ade- 
quate or discriminating manner. But I may with- 
out hesitation, recommend that the hours bestowed 
upon it may be given to the writings of such men 
as Klopstock, Gellert, Wieland, Herder, Goethe, 
Schiller, and a few more, whose character you will 
readily learn from German scholars. It is to be 
lamented that the writings of most of these men 
ought to be read with caution, as by no means 
wholly faultless in their tendency. Still in a lite- 
rary point of view they may be considered as 
holding a high place in the country to which they 
belong, and as among the best that can be recom- 
mended to those who wish for a small amount of 
select German reading. 

It will readily be perceived, from all that has 
been said, that the thing popularly called general 
reading, is a matter of no small importance; that 
it affords a noble opportunity for enriching the 
mind with valuable knowledge; that the variety 



GENERAL READING. 235 

in this field which solicits the attention of the 
scholar is immense; and, of course, that he who 
wastes the precious hours which he can afford to 
devote to this employment, in the perusal of works 
frivolous, corrupt, or, to say the least, wholly un- 
profitable, is equally foolish and criminal. The 
truth is, a wise youth may render his general read- 
ing as essentially subservient to his ultimate success 
in life, as the most solid prescribed study in which 
he can engage. 



236 



-LETTER XIII. 

ATTENTION.— DILIGENCE. 

" MtXtrti to rav." — Periander. 

• "Nil sine magno 

Vita labore dedit mortalibus." — Hor. 

My Dear Sons, 

When man fell from God, a part of the sentence 
pronounced upon him, in the way of penalty, was 
— "In the sweat of thy brow thou shalt eat thy 
bread." It was indeed a penalty; and, of course, 
all the labour and toil connected with success in 
life ought to remind us of our fallen nature, and 
humble us under the mighty hand of God. But 
the penalty in this, and in many other cases, has 
been converted by the wisdom and goodness of 
God into a blessing. The great law of our being 
that we shall eat our bread in the sweat of our 
brow, extends much further than is commonly 
imagined. Many understand it as applying only 
to the common labourer. But it applies to all. 
All who would enjoy life — all who would have 



ATTENTION — DILIGENCE. 237 

bread to eat in plenty and comfort, mast labour 
for it either in body or mind. And is it not a 
mercy that the providence of God has so ordered 
it? What would be the consequence if all could 
eat and drink, and enjoy the luxuries of life to their 
heart's content, without labour? Would it not dis- 
solve the bonds of society, and convert the world 
into a real hell? The law of labour, in one form 
or another impressed upon all men, tends to pro- 
mote their health both of body and mind; to excite, 
invigorate and expand their faculties; to preserve 
them from the rust of inaction, and the snares of 
idleness; to discipline and elevate both the intel- 
lectual and moral character, and to make man a 
helper and a blessing to man. 

You ought to regard it, then, not as a misfortune, 
but as a blessing, that much knowledge is not to 
be gained, nor a high reputation established, with- 
out much labour. Of course I cannot sympathize 
with those who lament this arrangement of Provi- 
dence. Rather ought we all to rejoice in it as one 
of the multiplied evidences of that adorable wisdom 
and benignity, which brings light out of darkness, 
order out of confusion, and results the most blessed 
and happy out of circumstances painful to our natu- 
ral feelings. 

I take for granted that my sons, after going so 
far in the attainment of what is called a liberal 
education, expect to get their living without mecha- 



238 ATTENTION — DILIGENCE. 

nical labour. But if they hope to accomplish any 
thing worthy of pursuit, either in the acquisition of 
knowledge, or in the formation of good intellectual 
and moral habits, and serving their generation ac- 
ceptably and usefully, without much labour and 
toil, they were never more deluded. If one old 
heathen could say, in the language of the mottoes 
which stand at the head of this letter, "In this life 
nothing is given to mortals, without great labour;" 
and another, " Industry and care effect every thing;" 
much more strongly and clearly is the same lesson 
taught by the Word of God, and by uniform expe- 
rience. Think not that what is called genius, or 
even the highest order of talents, even if you could 
persuade yourselves that you possessed them, would 
exempt you from the law of patient labour. The 
greatest men that ever adorned and benefited 
human nature have found it otherwise. The fact 
is, any single branch either of literature or science, 
if we would thoroughly master it, is deep enough 
and wide enough to keep indefatigably busy the 
most vigorous and active mind for a long lifetime. 
How much more the multiplied branches which he 
who aspires to shine in any one of the learned pro- 
fessions is compelled to explore! There is, no 
doubt, great diversity in regard to the ease and 
readiness with which some minds acquire know- 
ledge compared with others. But in no case what- 
ever can a large amount of knowledge, on any 



ATTENTION — DILIGENCE. 239 

subject, be gained without much patient labour. 
And it is simply the want of a disposition to submit 
to this labour which makes so many miserable 
scholars, and which stands in the way of that suc- 
cess in life which might have been otherwise easily 
and certainly commanded. 

A defect here, my dear sons, lies more frequently 
and more deeply at the foundation of those failures 
to get forward in life which are so frequently seen 
and lamented than is commonly imagined. One of 
the most sagacious and succes'sful managers of 
secular business that I ever knew, who was, for 
many years, a faithful and efficient trustee of our 
college, and to whom she owes a large debt of 
gratitude for his wise and useful services as one of 
her guardians,* when any one was spoken of in 
his presence as failing of success in his temporal 
affairs, and when the want of success was accounted 
for by calling him unfortunate, was heard more 
than once to say — "Unfortunate? don't tell me; 
when I hear of such an event I set it down to the 
score of the want of industry, or of discretion, 
or both. No industrious, prudent man need be 
in want or in difficulty in this country." This, in 
general, I believe to be a true verdict. With very 
few exceptions, (and exceptions there doubtless 
are,) I am inclined to believe that the opinion 

* The late Robert Lenox, Esquire, of New York. 



240 ATTENTION — DILIGENCE. 

of that enlightened judge may be confidently main- 
tained. It will be found true in ninety-nine cases 
out of an hundred. 

If this remark applies with justice to the ordi- 
nary details of commercial or mechanical business, 
it is no less applicable to mental efforts and attain- 
ments. Here you might just as well expect any 
absurdity, any impossibility to occur, as the gaining 
of any large amount of digested, valuable know- 
ledge without much and indefatigable mental labour. 
When I have heard, therefore, as I sometimes have, 
of students (if they deserve the name of students) 
who dreamed that they were men of genius, and 
who imagined that genius without industry would 
accomplish every thing — nay, who felt ashamed of 
appearing studious, and who endeavoured to con- 
ceal the little mental application to which they did 
submit by conducting it in a stealthy manner; — 
when I have heard of such young men, I have 
hardly known which to admire most — their childish 
ignorance of the nature of true knowledge, or their 
miserable charlatanry in aping a character to which 
they had no just claim. 

If you wish to be real scholars, and to make any 
solid attainments in any of the branches of know- 
ledge to which your attention is directed, calcu- 
late on constant indefatigable labour. Abhor the 
thought of skimming over the surface of any thing. 
Whatever labour it may cost, go to the bottom, as 



ATTENTION DILIGENCE. 241 

far as you possibly can, of every subject. Give 
yourselves no rest until you comprehend the funda- 
mental principles, the rationale of every thing. I 
need not say to any one who thinks, that it is only 
when a subject is thus studied that our attainments 
deserve the name of knowledge. Then only can it 
be said to have a firm lodgment in the mind, and 
to be ready for practical use when subsequently 
needed. On the one hand, never give way to the 
foolish notion, that you can never advantageously 
study a particular branch without a special genius 
for it. Many an infatuated youth, for example, 
has tried to excuse himself for not mastering or 
loving his mathematical studies by pleading that 
he has no genius for that branch of science. Never 
allow yourselves to offer or to entertain such a plea. 
A young man of any mind ought to be ashamed of 
such a thought. It is, in forty-nine cases out of 
fifty, the offspring of either mental imbecility, or 
shameful laziness. What though Dean Siuift was 
disgraced in the University of Dublin by his igno- 
rance of mathematics? Does any one doubt that, 
ifjnorbid caprice and indolence had not stood in 
the way, he might have been an eminent mathe- 
matical scholar? And is not every reflecting reader 
of his life persuaded that, if he had been such a 
scholar, he would have been a far greater, and per- 
haps a more practically happy man? No one who 
has the spirit of a man ought to consider any de- 
21 



242 ATTENTION DILIGENCE. 

partment of knowledge as beyond his reach. Let 
him be willing to labour in the attainment of it and 
he will overcome. Let him constrain himself, how- 
ever reluctantly, to engage in the study; and, in a 
little while, that which in the outset was a toil will 
become a real pleasure. 

On the other hand, imagine not that any depart- 
ment of knowledge can be successfully explored 
and gained without long-continued and patient 
labour. If, indeed, you wish for a mere smattering, 
which will enable you to appear decently at a re- 
citation, and plausibly to repeat a lesson by rote, 
without understanding what you say; then, truly, 
you may get along without much labour. But 
what is implied in filling the mind with real digested 
knowledge? Facts must be stored up; principles 
must be investigated and mastered; relations, proxi- 
mate and remote, must be explored; and all applied 
to the numberless and ever varying cases which 
the works of nature and of art present. Now, can 
any thinking mind imagine that this is to be done 
without much mental labour; without continued, 
systematic, unwearied toil from day to day? Dr. 
Johnson never uttered a jnster sentiment than 
when he said — " Every one who proposes to grow 
eminent by learning, should carry in his mind, at 
once, the difficulty of excellence, and the force of 
industry; and remember that fame is not conferred 
but as the recompense of labour; and that labour, 



ATTENTION — DILIGENCE. 243 

vigorously continued, has not often failed of its 
reward."* 

There is, I apprehend, no defect more common 
among students than impatience of protracted 
labour in the acquisition of knowledge. Many- 
seem to imagine that large and profound views of 
the most difficult subjects are to be gained by one 
or a few mighty efforts; by an occasional spasmodic 
exertion, if I may so express it. Be assured, what- 
ever may be the case with a rare genius, now and 
then, it is commonly not so. The old French pro- 
verb, "Pas a pas on va bien loin/' i. e. "Step by 
step one goes very far," affords the real clew to 
the proper course. A mountain is not to be passed 
by a single leap; nor a deep and rich mine to be 
explored by a single stroke, or even a few strokes, 
of the spade. But a sufficient number of slow, 
cautious, patient efforts will accomplish the enter-, 
prise. So it is in study. Impatient haste is the 
bane of intellectual work. A little thoroughly 
done, every day, will make no contemptible figure 
at the end of the year. We are told of Sir Isaac 
Neivton, that, when questioned respecting the pecu- 
liar powers of his own mind, he said, that if he had 
any talent which distinguished him from the com- 
mon mass of thinking men, it was the power of 
slowly and patiently examining a subject; holding 

* Rambler, No. 25. 



244 ATTENTION — DILIGENCE. 

it up before his mind from day to day, until he 
could look at it in all its relations, and see some- 
thing of the principles by which it was governed. 
His estimate was probably a correct one. His 
most remarkable, and certainly his most valuable, 
talent consisted, not in daring, towering flights of 
imagination, or in strong creative powers; but in 
slow, plodding investigation; in looking at a series 
of facts, from day to day, until he began to trace 
their connection; to spell out their consequences; 
and ultimately to form a system as firm as it was 
beautiful. The little structures, which haste and 
parsimony of labour have erected from time to 
time, have stood their passing day, and soon crum- 
bled into ruins. But the mighty pyramids, built 
up by long, patient and unwearied labour, have 
continued firm, in all their unshaken grandeur, 
amidst the waste of ages. 

When you contemplate the splendid success of 
some eminent individuals now or lately on the stage 
of public life, you are ready to imagine that similar 
success is beyond your reach, and that to aim at it 
would be presumptuous. This is a great mistake, 
and to indulge it is very unwise. It must be ad- 
mitted, indeed, that the success of all cannot be 
alike. All, for example, cannot be great orators; 
excellence in this art depends so much on physical 
accomplishments; on the voice, the eye, the nervous 
temperament, &c. that we can by no means assure 



ATTENTION — DILIGENCE. 245 

every one that a high degree of it is within his 
reach. Yet even here great excellence may often 
be attained by those whose qualifications appear, 
at first view, wholly unpromising. The history of 
Demosthenes is a most striking exemplification of 
the truth of this remark. Hundreds who are now 
poor speakers, if they had the industry and the 
resolution that the illustrious Grecian had— if they 
would take the unwearied pains that he did to 
expand and invigorate the chest, to strengthen and 
discipline the voice, and to fill their minds with 
appropriate sentiments and happy diction such as 
he attained, might well emulate even his eloquence. 
It is, undoubtedly, mere indolence, or ill directed 
effort, which stands in the way of high attainment, 
in this rarest of all human accomplishments. 

But the avenues to real greatness are almost 
infinitely diversified; and if one be shut, another is 
open to almost every one. I think, my dear sons, 
that my estimate of your talents is not extravagant. 
I am willing, for argument's sake, to place it as low 
as any one can ask; and I will still say, that great 
things are within your reach. Nay, I will venture 
confidently to affirm, that every one who has had 
mind enough and knowledge enough to reach any 
class in college, has it in his power, humanly speak- 
ing, to attain high distinction as a beloved, honoured 
and eminently useful man. Some of the greatest 
benefactors of society that ever lived were not men 
21* 



246 ATTENTION — DILIGENCE. 

of genius; but they were sober and industrious, 
willing to labour in laying up knowledge; and they 
did thus lay it up, and having attained it, they 
had the honesty and the benevolence to employ it 
all in endeavouring to promote the welfare and 
happiness of their fellow men. Who can say that 
this is beyond his reach? Look round on your 
classmates, and ask, which of them is too low on 
the score of talent to be thus eminently and honour- 
ably useful, if he were only willing to undergo the 
requisite labour for the purpose? While laziness 
and vice are every day clouding the prospects and 
degrading the reputation of thousands, making 
them cumberers of the ground, instead of bene- 
factors of their species; there is no doubt that, in a 
multitude of cases, the mere qualities of unwearied 
industry and inflexible honesty have exalted men 
of plain talents to the highest ranks of usefulness 
and honour. Why, why are so few willing, who 
have it in their power, to make the experiment? 

But there is such a thing as being incessantly 
occupied, and yet not industrious. This is the 
case with him who has no regular system of em- 
ployment, who is constantly the sport of new 
occurrences; who is continually getting in arrears 
with his business, and always in a hurry to over- 
take it, but never able. Such persons never ac- 
complish much, and their work, such as it is, is 
hardly ever done in time. I once knew a most 



ATTENTION — DILIGENCE. 247 

worthy man, an alumnus of our college, who had 
an active mind, and was seldom idle. But he had 
not the power of pursuing any one object long at 
a time. He was incessantly forming new projects 
of literary works, but never carried any one of them 
into execution. I seldom met him without finding 
his mind occupied with some new scheme, and 
having apparently altogether abandoned that which 
absorbed his attention at the date of the preceding 
interview. The consequence was, that, although 
conscientious, pious, and by no means idle, his life 
was comparatively wasted in promises never real- 
ized, and in efforts altogether abortive. Real in- 
dustry is that which wisely and maturely forms a 
plan, which firmly and patiently pursues it from 
day to day, until it is brought to a plenary conclu- 
sion. Perseverance is one of the essential qualities 
of genuine industry. He who works with zeal and 
diligence for a few days, and then either breaks off 
altogether, or suffers himself to be interrupted by 
every frivolous occurrence, will never build up a 
very firm or elevated fame. " How is it that you 
accomplish so much?" said a friend to the great 
pensioner Be Witt, of Holland. " By doing one 
thing at a time," replied the eminent statesman. 

How many hours per diem you ought to study, 
and in what precise way these hours ought to be 
distributed in the twenty-four, I shall not attempt 
to prescribe. This depends so much on the state 



248 ATTENTION — DILIGENCE. 

of health, the physical temperament, and the diver- 
sified circumstances of each individual, that it is 
impossible to lay down a rule which shall suit all 
equally well. Some, who study with intense ap- 
plication whenever they are thus engaged, ought 
not to employ in this manner more than six hours 
each day; while those whose application of mind 
in such cases is less intense and absorbing, may 
venture on ten or even tivelve hours in every 
twenty-four without injury. The slow and phleg- 
matic must, of course, employ more time over their 
books than those whose mental operations are 
more rapid and ardent. But see that, as far as 
possible, no moment be either lost in vacuity or 
wasted on frivolity. 

It is truly wonderful to think how much may be 
accomplished by order mingled with diligence in 
our pursuits. He who has a time and a place for 
every thing that he has to do, and who gains, by 
habit, the power of summoning his powers to the 
vigorous performance at the proper time of the pre- 
scribed task, will soon learn to accomplish more in 
a day, then he who is frequently struggling with 
ennui and with indolence will be likely to accom- 
plish in a month. 

And if you wish to be successfully industrious, 
make a point of being early risers. Lying long 
in bed in the morning is, in every view, a pernicious 
habit. It seldom fails to exert a morbid influence 



ATTENTION — DILIGENCE. 249 

on the bodily health. It is generally connected 
with languid feelings, and with want of decision 
and energy in every thing. It may thus be said to 
cut off a number of years from the ordinary life of 
man. But the importance of this habit on the 
employments of a student is incalculable. He who 
has much to do ought to begin early in the morn- 
ing, not only because the minds of most people are 
most active and vigorous immediately after the 
repose of the night, but also because when a large 
part of our daily task is early accomplished, the 
interruptions of company, as the day advances, are 
less annoying, and less destructive to the progress 
of our work. Sir Walter Scott, we are told by his 
biographer, was in the habit, at one* period of his 
life, of having the greater part of his literary task 
for each day nearly completed at an early hour in 
the forenoon, thus leaving a number of hours every 
day to be devoted to the social and other employ- 
ments which his eminence and his multiplied con- 
nections with his friends and the public unavoid- 
ably brought upon him. This, too, was the great 
secret of the immense amount of labour accom- 
plished by those eminent men, in former times, 
whose ponderous folios we now look upon with 
amazement, and can scarcely find time to read. 
They were early risers. Whenever they had a 
great task to perform (and they always had some 
such task on hand) they were steady and incessant 



250 ATTENTION — DILIGENCE. 

in their labours. They lost no time in idleness or 
trifles. Imitate their example, and you may ac- 
complish as much as they did. The laws of the 
college which call you up at an early hour, and 
enjoin upon you an early retirement to rest, may 
now seem to you a hardship; but, if you live a few 
years, you will regard them in a very different 
light. 



251 



LETTER XIV. 

ASSOCIATIONS— FRIENDSHIPS. 

" Noscitur a Sociis." — Anon. 

" It is certain that either wise bearing, or ignorant carriage, is 
caught as men take diseases, one of another; therefore take heed 
of your company." — Shakspeare. 

My Dear Sons, 

I can well remember the time, when, in the 
prospect of entering a college, my impressions of 
the character of such an institution were of the 
most interesting kind. I expected to find myself 
united to a society of young gentlemen, of polished 
manners, of honourable feelings and habits, and of 
ardent and generous literary emulation. I had 
been experimentally aware that, in inferior semi- 
naries, there are often found lads of vulgar charac- 
ter, and even of profligate principles, and grossly 
revolting habits. But in a college I expected to 
find the very elite of literary young men; and to 
meet, in all its classes, and especially in its more 
advanced ones, circles with whom it would be both 



252 ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS. 

delightful and improving to maintain intercourse. 
Judge, then, of my surprise, when I found that, 
even in a college, there were sometimes to be seen 
young men of manners as vulgar and offensive, 
and of habits and principles as profligate, as else- 
where; nay, in some rare instances, capable of the 
meanest as well as the most criminal practices; 
and, therefore, that even here it was necessary to 
be select in associations, and especially in inti- 
macies. I might have reflected, indeed, that hu- 
man depravity appears in every connection and 
walk of life; that he who expects to find it wholly 
excluded, even from the church of God, cherishes 
a vain expectation; and that, in circles of college 
students, it is the part of wisdom to be always on 
the watch, for ascertaining the character and 
avoiding the company of those young men whose 
touch is pollution, and whose intimacy is equally 
disreputable and perilous. 

It is a maxim of inspired wisdom (1 Cor. xv. 33) 
that "evil communications corrupt good manners." 
No one, however wise or firm, has a right to con- 
sider himself as above the reach of the danger 
against which we are warned by this maxim. 
Even the inspired apostle himself, the penman of 
the maxim, if not protected by a special guardian- 
ship, would have been liable to suffer by the mis- 
chievous influence against which he guards us. 
How much greater the danger when the fascina- 



ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS. 253 

tion of intercourse with the corrupt is indulged 
without restraint, and without the least apprehen- 
sion of mischief! 

There are few situations in which a base and 
profligate young man is capable of doing more 
injury to those about him, than in a college. The 
points of contact between those who study in the 
same institution, and especially in the same class, 
are so numerous and important, that it is difficult 
wholly to avoid contamination. The counsel, 
therefore, which I have to give on this subject, as 
it is unspeakably important, so you will find it no 
less difficult to follow in your daily intercourse. 

I take for granted that you will lay it down as a 
fundamental principle in your social relations, to 
treat every fellow student with decorum, and even 
with urbanity; that you will study to be gentlemen 
even amidst the freedom of college intercourse. 
This I have recommended, in another letter, with 
all the zeal of parental solicitude. Try as much as 
possible to have no disagreement, no contest with 
anyone. "If it be possible, as much as lieth in 
you, live peaceably with all." For this purpose, 
let the tones of your voice, and your whole air and 
manner be free from that rough, acrid, insolent 
character, which young men of ardent minds, and 
bouyant feelings, are so apt to exhibit; and which 
are the beginning of so many distressing quarrels 
and disgraceful affrays. It has been my privilege, 
22 



254 ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS. 

in the course of a long life, to be acquainted with 
several public men, of eminent talents, deeply and 
constantly engaged in political affairs; and em- 
ployed, for thirty or forty years together, in inter- 
course and collision with all sorts of men, from the 
most excellent to the most corrupt and vile. And 
yet, though not religious men, I have never heard 
of their giving or receiving a challenge to fight a 
duel; never known them to be involved in any 
feud or broil with any one; never seen them re- 
duced to the necessity of defending themselves, 
either by the fist, the pen, or the tongue, from the 
ferocious attacks of ruffians. What was the reason 
of this? Not because they had less discernment to 
perceive the designs of opponents; or less sensibility 
to insult; or less regard to their own dignity and 
honour than they ought to have had:— but because 
they were " swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to 
wrath;" because they had the faculty of " ruling 
their own spirits;" because they saw the evil of 
dissension afar off, and avoided its approaches; 
because their language and tones were habitually 
mild and adapted to disarm and conciliate rather 
than to provoke; in short, because they acted upon 
the maxim of the wise physician, who tells us, obsta 
principiis; — "an ounce of prevention is worth a 
pound of cure." This was the grand secret of 
such men going through life with peaceful, undis- 
turbed dignity, beloved and confided in by the 



ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS. 255 

community, and constraining even the wicked to 
speak well of them. 

But who has not seen many, in public and pri- 
vate life, of a very opposite character? Men of 
equal talents, and, in many respects, of equal in- 
tegrity and moral worth; but so morbidly sensitive 
to all opposition; so liable to the sallies of un- 
governable passion; so hasty and unguarded in 
speech; and so incapable of all sober calculation of 
consequences, that they were constantly involved 
in broils, and sometimes in conflicts of disgraceful 
and brutal violence. Such men are to be avoided 
almost as much as ferocious beasts. To speak to 
them is unsafe. To attempt to transact business 
with them requires all the vigilance and caution 
necessary in handling or approaching an exploding 
substance. 

Let me exhort you, then, my dear sons, as soon 
as possible to learn the character of all your fellow 
students, and especially of those with whom you 
are associated in the same class. If you perceive 
any to be particularly forward, or likely on account 
of any popular qualities, to take the lead, scruti- 
nize them with peculiar care. The moment you 
perceive any one to be profane, rude, vulgar, irri- 
table, quarrelsome, or forward in plotting or exe- 
cuting mischief — however great his talents, — mark 
him; — have as little to do with him as possible; — 
neither say nor do any thing to provoke his resent- 



256 ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS. 

ment; but avoid him; speak not to him, or of him 
more than you cannot help. If he discovers a dis- 
position to be intimate with you, do not repel him 
offensively; but let him see, by negative, rather 
than positive indications, that you prefer the com- 
pany of other associates. If you go to the room 
of a corrupt and disorderly fellow student; if 
you are found in his company; or partaking with 
him in any amusement, you may be unexpectedly 
implicated in some of his freaks or follies, in a 
manner as unmerited as painful. I have known 
one event of this kind to involve an innocent and 
worthy student in serious and lasting difficulty. 
Indeed I would carry my advice to avoid all inter- 
course with the corrupt and disorderly, so far as to 
say, with earnestness, — never allow yourselves to 
mix with the crowd which seldom fails to rush 
together, when any affray, great or small, occurs, 
either in the campus or in the street. However , 
great the assemblage, and however strong the im- 
pulse of curiosity, refrain— if you can summon so 
much resolution — from approaching the scene. If 
you are present — with the most innocent intentions 
in the world, and with the most entire original 
freedom possible from the leading actors in the 
scene — some unexpected nervous excitement on 
your part, some remark of a reckless and foolish 
bystander; some blow intended for another light- 
ing on yourselves— may render the gratification 



ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS. 257 

of a momentary curiosity a source of serious and 
lasting calamity. Often, — very often have 1 had 
reason to be thankful, that some Providential oc- 
currence, rather than my own wisdom, prevented 
my making one of a crowd in which, from appa- 
rently small beginnings, passions were unexpectedly 
inflamed; violence extended; and a number of in- 
dividuals suddenly implicated, and perhap's fatally 
injured, who had no connection whatever with the 
original conflict. The truth is, such scenes ought 
to be just as carefully avoided, as the track of a 
fearful tornado, when sweeping past our place of 
abode. 

But, my dear sons, while you avoid, with the 
utmost vigilance, the company of such young men 
as I have described, and all contact with such 
scenes of violence as those to which I have re- 
ferred, remember that social intercourse with your 
fellow students, when wisely conducted, is of great 
value, and may be made the source of essential 
benefits. I say, when wisely conducted; for there 
is here great need of judgment and caution. Be 
not in haste to form intimacies. Enlightened and 
safe friendship is a plant of slow growth. No 
wise young man will give his heart and his confi- 
dence to one with whom he is only slightly ac- 
quainted. He will not only scrutinize his charac- 
ter with care himself, but he will also carefully 
mark how the candidate for his favour is regarded 
22* 



25S ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS. 



and treated by the best judges, who have been 
longer and more intimately acquainted with him. 
Try, as far as possible, to select, as the objects of 
your confidence, some of the best talents and the 
best scholarship among your fellow students. From 
such> provided their moral and social qualities do 
not render them dangerous, you may expect to 
derive most pleasure, most intellectual excitement, 
most solid instruction. Guard against the error of 
having too many intimates. It frequently happens 
that sanguine, raw young men, find confidants in 
every place of their residence, whether for a longer 
or shorter time. Such confidential relations ought 
always to be very few, and very cautiously formed. 
He who makes them many will soon find himself 
betrayed and embarrassed. Not one friend in a 
thousand is fit to be entrusted with the private con- 
cerns of others, and especially with those personal 
secrets which it is the interest of every one to con- 
ceal from the public. Even where there is a strict 
sense of honour, essential weakness of character 
renders many a worthy individual an utterly un- 
safe depository of confidential communications. I 
have met with but two or three friends in a long 
life whom I found it prudent thus to trust. You 
will be very fortunate if you meet with more than 
one in all your college. 

But further, be not so intimate with any, as 
either to waste in social intercourse that time of 






ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS. 259 

your own which ought to be spent in study; or to 
encroach on their time in such a manner as to 
interrupt them in the performance of their duty. I 
have known some students so inconsiderate as to 
spend a portion of almost every day in going from 
room to room, visiting their fellow students. Such 
young men lessen their own dignity; make their 
visits cheap; waste their own time; and invade the 
time, the studies, and, of course, the comfort of 
others. Lord Bacon was accustomed, with em- 
phasis, to say — u Tempor is fares amici" Cotton 
Mather, and, after him, Dr. Watts, caused to be 
inscribed, in large letters, over their study doors, 
these words — "be short." That student who 
spends much time in his social visits, gives ample 
evidence that he is neglecting his studies, and is 
likely to make a poor scholar. But this is not all: 
He will very soon become an unwelcome visitant 
to all, excepting those who are as indolent and 
reckless as himself. 

In all your intercourse with your fellow stu- 
dents, adhere to the strictest principles of delicacy 
and honour. Never betray, or take the advantage 
of any confidence reposed in you. Never employ 
any indirect arts, or insidious means, to raise 
yourselves, or to depress others. Never allow 
yourselves to use any information or opportunity 
which your intimacy may give, either directly or 
indirectly, to the injury of one whom you call your 



260 ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS. 

friend. In short, I would say, never permit your- 
selves to make any use of the most unguarded dis- 
closure, or of the most confidential conversation, 
which you would not be perfectly willing that all the 
world should know, and that all your friends should 
apply to yourselves. Begin now, my dear sons, 
when your social character is forming, to despise 
and hate every thing like trick, deceit, or under- 
hand management, in your intercourse with others; 
every thing that shuns the light, or which, if 
known, would be considered as inconsistent with 
perfect fairness and candour. No one can tell 
how much of that which is now concealed, and 
which he supposed could never be known, may 
one day be unexpectedly dragged to light. Let 
the most entire sincerity, openness, and manly 
integrity shine in every part of your conversation 
and deportment. I should be greatly mortified if 
any of your companions should be able to say, 
that while professing to be his friend, you had 
taken the advantage of your intimacy, in the least 
tittle, to wound his reputation, or injure his feelings. 
Nay, I would go one step further, and say, not 
only adhere to the strictest integrity and honour in 
all your intercourse with those whom you call your 
friends, and whom you are willing should be so 
regarded; but also toward your opponents, and 
even your bitterest enemies. If the worst enemy 
I have in the world should, in an unguarded mo- 



ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS. 261 

ment, utter in my hearing a speech which he did 
not deliberately intend to make, or disclose a fact 
which he earnestly wished to conceal, or drop from 
his pocket a private paper, which he was solicitous 
to keep from others, — I should, in most cases, con- 
sider myself as bound in honour not to divulge 
them. Hence the unanimity with which all 
honourable people condemn the repeating of pri- 
vate conversation; and hence the severity with 
which all well constituted and delicate minds 
reprobate the conduct of the eavesdropper, who 
gains a knowledge of domestic secrets, or party 
plans, by mean, secret listening. If I can approach 
my enemy, or meet my opponent in open warfare, 
every honourable mind will justify me in doing 
so: — but I would not for the world consent to be, 
or to employ, a spy, whom all civilized nations 
concur in sending to the gallows. 

It is a maxim of policy with some students to 
seek and cultivate intimacies with such of their col- 
lege companions as belong to the most wealthy 
and conspicuous families; accordingly, when a son 
of a President of the United States, or of a dis- 
tinguished member of Congress, or of a citizen of 
great wealth enters college, it is considered as good 
policy by many calculating youth early to make 
their acquaintance, and to become, as far as pos- 
sible, intimate with them. There is much less 
wisdom in this than is commonly supposed. The 



262 ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS. 



sons of such distinguished parents are seldom 
sober-minded and virtuous. They have been com- 
monly too much accustomed to gaiety, and com- 
pany, and dissipation, and luxurious living, to be 
either diligent students or good scholars. Their 
habits, too, are apt to be lax and expensive; and 
they too frequently betray into unlawful liberties 
and unexpected and inconvenient expenses, those 
who court their company; and, in the end, in nine 
cases out of ten, they cost much more than they pro- 
fit us. The truth is, instead of seeking, anterior to 
inquiry and experience, peculiar intimacy with such 
young men, I should be more distrustful of such than 
of others; more afraid of their proffered friendship; 
more apprehensive of danger from being found 
much in their company; more careful to scrutinize 
the real stamp and bearing of their character, than 
if, with equally plausible appearances, they had 
more moderate claims, and had been brought up 
with more humble retiring simplicity. The sons 
of pious parents, and sometimes even of eminent 
ministers of the gospel, have, in some instances, 
turned out to be profligate, and proved pestiferous 
companions: but, on the other hand, young men 
trained in pious families, in regular habits, in plain 
and moderate expenditures, and with a reliance, 
under God, on their own efforts, for success in life, 
are, in general, the most safe and profitable asso- 






ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS. 263 

dates, and, of course, most worthy of being selected 
as friends. 

In short, I hope you will act in college as the 
wise and the virtuous act in the ordinary inter- 
courses of society. Be on amicable and neigh- 
bourly terms with all, excepting the profligate and 
vile. With them have no intercourse that can 
possibly be avoided. Never visit them. Never 
be seen in their rooms or their company, however 
great their talents, or however eminent their scho- 
larship. Let your selectest intimacies be with 
youth of the highest character for talents and at- 
tainments, provided their moral character be un- 
blemished and pure, and especially, if they give 
evidence of sincere piety. Where there is true 
religion there is something that is worthy of con- 
fidence, and that may always be made profitable 
to you, even though accompanied with only mode- 
rate intellectual powers, and medium scholarship. 

1 shall close this letter by putting you on your 
guard against a particular weakness which I have 
often observed to have a place, and to exert no 
small influence, among associates in college. I 
mean the cowardice and servility of those who feel 
as if they were bound to imitate their companions 
in every thing; and as if ail departure from this 
imitation were to be considered as so many marks 
of painful inferiority. Often — very often — have I 
known youthful members of college anxious to be 



264 ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS. 

like their classmates, and other associates, in every 
thing; following the same fashions; going to the 
same places of resort; manifesting the same supe- 
riority to parental supervision and restraint; and 
mortified if they could not take the same liberties, 
and display the same independence in all their 
movements. This is so far from being a manly, 
independent spirit, that it is directly the reverse. 
It argues a weak dependence on others for giving 
law to our conduct. Is it manly or wise to follow 
the shadows of others, perhaps no more entitled to 
be a model than yourselves? If you do not follow 
their example, is it not quite as true that they do 
not follow yours? Besides, if you must be con- 
formed to the wishes of others, is it not much bet- 
ter that you should consult the judgment, and be 
regulated by the wishes of those who know you 
best, who love you most, who take a deeper in- 
terest in your welfare, and understand what will 
promote that welfare better than any others; than 
that you should follow in the wake of inexperi- 
enced, thoughtless companions, who are miserable 
judges of what is best either for you or themselves; 
who actually care nothing about your real welfare; 
and only wish to make you subservient to their 
present pleasure? I have been a thousand times 
both surprised and disgusted to find amiable and 
ingenuous youth, so cowardly and servile in their 
constant reference to the habits of their fellow 



ASSOCIATIONS — FRIENDSHIPS. 265 

students, that they were ready to break through 
the wishes, and even the authority of parents and 
guardians for the sake of indulging this imitative 
spirit. Those who feel and act thus may imagine 
that they manifest manliness and independence of 
character; but they were never more deceived. In 
the whole business they are displaying a childish 
reliance on the authority of children like them- 
selves, as weak as it is mischievous. 



23 



266 



LETTER XV. 

LITERARY SOCIETIES IN COLLEGE. 



Concordia, res parvse crescunt, discordia maximse dilabuntur. 

Sallust. 
Comes jucundus in via pro vehiculo est. — Publ. Syr. 



My Dear Sons, 

The " American Whig" and " Cliosophic" socie- 
ties have long existed in the College of New Jersey, 
and have exerted no small influence on the im- 
provement and character of its students. I will 
not trouble you now with any details of the history 
of those societies. You know that the great pro- 
fessed purpose of their institution was that they 
might promote some important objects which the 
ordinary exercises of the college were not so well 
adapted to secure, particularly a spirit of fraternal 
friendship among the students, and also a laudable 
emulation in literature, science, manners and mo- 
rals. Such is the theory of these institutions; and 
if their actual administration had always been in 
faithful conformity with this theory, they would, 
no doubt, have produced fruits of far greater value 



LITERARY SOCIETIES IN COLLEGE. 267 

than have been ever realized. But large allow- 
ance must always be made for the management of 
every association conducted by ardent young men, 
of little experience, of sanguine feelings, and of 
much self-confidence. 

Still these societies are truly valuable, and worthy 
of encouragement; and it gives me pleasure to know 
that you are connected with one of them. My 
great design in referring to the subject is to take an 
opportunity of urging upon you to prize this con- 
nection highly, and to study, by all the means in 
your power, to make it profitable to yourselves 
and all your fellow members. 

You are aware of the evils which are apt to 
arise and to interfere both with the comfort and 
the usefulness of such associations among young 
men in college. The same evils which disturb all 
other society are apt, of course, to operate^ here. 
Beside these, there are many arising from the in- 
experience, the ardour, the rashness, the vanity, the 
pride, and the other passions of youth. It has been 
sometimes observed, that there are no discipli- 
narians more rigorous, and even intolerant than 
young men. But their rigour is apt to be spas- 
modic and unseasonable, and to be followed by 
paroxysms of indulgence, levity, irritation, dis- 
order, and even violence far more revolting than 
their spasms of rigour. If the same members could 
continue to act for twenty or thirty years together, 



268 LITERARY SOCIETIES IN COLLEGE. 

these evils would be gradually, but certainly dimi- 
nished. This, however, cannot be the case. A 
constant succession of the raw, the ardent, and the 
inexperienced, are destined to be the counsellors 
and the guides in every measure. 

The simple statement of these evils will itself go 
far toward furnishing an index both to their pre- 
vention and their correction. You ought to be 
continually learning in the hall of your society not 
only those lessons which will tend to your improve- 
ment in mental culture, and in literary acquirement 
and taste; but also in whatever is adapted to refine 
your moral and social feelings, and polish your 
manners. Here you ought continually to cherish 
that generous, fraternal emulation which seeks to 
excel, and, instead of sickening with envy at the 
talents and success of others, is stimulated by laud- 
able efforts to overtake and surpass them. Here 
you ought to be constantly excited to higher and 
higher acquisitions in every intellectual accomplish- 
ment. Here it ought to be your aim, amidst all 
the diversities of temper, all the jarrings of youthful 
passion and all the ebullitions of ignorance, inexpe- 
rience and rashness, to cherish with studious care 
the virtues of self-command, prudence, gentleness, 
and habitual respectfulness. The hall of your 
society may be regarded as a foretaste of what you 
are to meet with, on a greater scale, on the theatre 
of the world. It has been your fortune to be per- 



LITERARY SOCIETIES IN COLLEGE. 269 

sonally acquainted with some, who, amidst all the 
folly, the turbulence, the vulgarity, and the ill- 
manners of many with whom they came in contact, 
were never involved in any embarrassing quarrel, 
but steered through life with a remarkable exemp- 
tion from feuds and animosities. And you have 
known others so morbidly touchy and inflammable 
themselves, and, at the same time, so regardless of 
the feelings of others, as to be perpetually involved 
in broils and conflicts wherever they went. Tem- 
pers and scenes of both these classes are not un- 
known even in the halls of literary societies. And I 
would earnestly exhort you to let your hall, when- 
ever it may be opened, be a place of moral as well 
as intellectual discipline. To this end, the follow- 
ing counsels, I will venture confidently to say, are 
worthy of your serious consideration. 

1. Faithfully resist the election of any member 
into your society who is known to be remarkable 
for his bad scholarship, his vulgar or immoral habits, 
or his insolent, perverse temper. Let no tempta- 
tion of adding to your numbers induce you to vote 
for admitting any student of this character. Such 
persons, when unfortunately introduced, seldom 
fail to give more trouble than they are worth. 
They weaken and degrade, rather than strengthen, 
any society to which they belong; and sometimes 
have been known, by their vulgar profligate inso- 
lence, to inflict lasting disgrace, and all but ruin on 
23* 



270 LITERARY SOCIETIES IN COLLEGE. 

the body with which they were connected. Let 
nothing deter you from opposing their introduction. 
Do it mildly; do it in guarded language; and if no 
other method be likely to succeed, propose respect- 
fully a committee of inquiry; and inform that 
committee confidentially of the reasons of your 
opposition. If this were faithfully done, no one 
can estimate the happy influence which might 
thereby be exerted on the character of a band of 
students. 

2. Be perfectly punctual in your attendance on 
all the meetings of the society to which you be- 
long; and perform with diligence and fidelity every 
task which its rules may impose upon you. Never 
either neglect or slight any exercise which it 
becomes your duty to perform. That which is 
worth doing at all is worth doing well. To refuse 
the time and labour necessary to its execution in 
the best manner, is doing injustice to your fellow 
members, as well as cheating yourselves. If the 
principles of the society are not faithfully carried 
into execution, it might as well, nay better, be dis- 
banded. 

3. Make a point of addressing all your fellow 
members with politeness and respect. Let your 
hall, so far as you are concerned, be a school of the 
strictest urbanity and respectfulness. Let no oppo- 
site tone or conduct on the part of others tempt 
you, for a moment, to deviate from this course. 



LITERARY SOCIETIES IN COLLEGE. 271 

"A soft answer turneth away wrath. " Nothing 
tends more directly to disarm passion or insolence 
than either a dignified silence in some cases, and in 
others a rigid observance of the laws of urbanity 
and respectfulness. I know it is your desire to avoid 
all those feuds, broils, and scenes of violence which 
are so apt to grow out of youthful animosities, and 
which are too frequently followed by results as 
criminal as they are silly and contemptible. It is 
impossible to measure the happy influence which 
one member of such a society whose example is 
perfectly correct and gentlemanly, may impart to 
all his fellow members. 

4. Endeavour, by all the means in your power, 
to render the society to which you belong a source 
of discipline in morals, as well as in literary and 
scientific improvement. Remember that you are 
bound by the principles of your institution to frown 
upon all disorder and immorality, as well as upon 
bad scholarship, and intellectual negligence. Of 
course, no student known to be habitually immoral 
ought to be admitted into your society; and when- 
ever it becomes apparent that any one who has 
been admitted is immoral, he ought immediately 
to be suspended, and if he persist in his delin- 
quency, he ought to be forthwith expelled. A few 
such examples would do a literary society essential 
good; would do more to elevate its character, and, 
in the end, to add to its numbers, than could well 



272 LITERARY SOCIETIES IN COLLEGE. 

be told. Let every member recollect that a large 
portion of the trust for keeping the society to which 
he belongs in this state of moral health is com- 
mitted to him; and that he i«,an do more by bear- 
ing a faithful testimony, from time to time, in 
favour of moral correctness than he would easily 
believe. By throwing out proper sentiments on 
this subject upon all suitable occasions, and by 
voting for strict discipline in all cases of delin- 
quency, each one may become a conservator of the 
moral character, and consequently of the true ho- 
nour of the society to an extent which invests 
every member with a mighty power of doing 
good. 

5. You are aware that most of the literary socie- 
ties in colleges avail themselves of the principle of 
secrecy to increase curiosity and interest in their 
favour. Whether this feature in their constitutions 
is dictated by wisdom, and confers any real advan- 
tage, is a question which I do not think proper 
now to discuss. No one, however, of correct and 
honourable feelings can doubt for a moment that, 
as long as this principle is actually incorporated in 
the plan of any society to which he belongs, he is 
bound strictly and delicately to adhere to it, and 
to avoid every thing which borders on an infringe- 
ment of it. Nay more; if any of the secrets of a 
rival society should by any means become known 
to you, my judgment is, that true delicacy of senti- 



LITERARY SOCIETIES IN COLLEGE. 273 

ment ought to prevent you from divulging them to 
a human being. If a son of mine, after accidentally- 
becoming possessed of such secrets, were to dis- 
close them, I should consider him as dishonoured. 

6. Guard with sacred care against a spirit of carp- 
ing and animosity toward a rival society. This 
is a very mischievous evil. "The beginning of it 
is like the letting out of water." It generates 
strife. It occupies time which ought to be reserved 
for higher and better objects. And in some cases 
it has grown to a mass of mischief which no one 
anticipated, and over which all mourned. Evils 
of this kind, every one sees afterwards, might 
easily have been prevented by a small measure of 
coolness and prudence in the beginning. I firmly 
believe that the most of those disagreements which 
have interfered with amicable and pleasant co- 
operation in public festive services between rival 
societies, have arisen either from the littleness of 
punctilio, or from the equally censurable littleness 
of false honour, and weak jealousy, which ought 
to have no place in elevated minds. 

7. But especially be careful in no case to allow 
your society to set itself against the authority of 
the college. This is like a civil war in the state, 
always to be avoided at almost any sacrifice. 
Even when the authority of the college is mani- 
festly acting under an entire mistake in regard to 
facts, there may be, without impropriety, calm 



274 LITERARY SOCIETIES IN COLLEGE. 

statements, and even respectful remonstrance; but 
in no case an attempt to exercise counter autho- 
rity. Any society in a literary institution which 
should attempt this, in any form, ought instantly to 
be dissolved. A faculty would be wanting to 
itself, and unfaithful to the institution committed to 
its care, which should suffer such a rebellious 
society to exist for a single hour. 

8. I will only add, let it be your constant study 
to render the society to which you belong as re- 
spectable, as useful, and as happy as possible. It 
has been delightful to observe how some indivi- 
duals have endeared themselves to the society to 
which they belonged, by an amiable gentlemanly 
deportment; by a faithful discharge of all the duties 
which they owed to it; by embracing every oppor- 
tunity of promoting its best interests, and adding to 
its true honour. In the records of every such 
society you always find a few names handed down 
as benefactors from one generation of students to 
another. Let it be your study thus to transmit 
your own names with honour to coming times. 



215 



LETTER XVI 



DRESS. 



-" Of outward form 



Elaborate, of inward less exact." — Milton. 

My Dear Sons, 

There are two extremes in regard to dress into 
which I have observed that college stndents are 
apt to fall. The one is a total negligence of it, lead- 
ing to a disgusting slovenliness; the other a degree 
of scrupulous attention to it, which indicates fop- 
pery and dandyism. It is my earnest desire that 
none of my sons may fall into either of these ex- 
tremes. And let it be remembered that they are 
both peculiarly apt to be adopted by students who 
board and lodge together in the same public edifice. 
There is something in the gregarious principle, 
which while it is productive of much good, is by 
no means unattended with serious evil. 

Some good scholars, and young men otherwise 
entirely exemplary, have been notoriously slovenly 
in their dress. But it was a real blemish in their 



276 DRESS. 

character, and was connected with no little disad- 
vantage. It is no disgrace to a student to be poor; 
to be obliged to wear a threadbare, and even a 
patched garment. It is rather to his honour, and 
ought to be so felt by him, to be strictly economical; 
to dress according to his circumstances; and never 
to purchase new clothes until he is able honestly to 
pay for them. He who does otherwise is really 
the mean and dishonest man. But let not his eco- 
nomical dress be slouching or filthy. Let him not 
walk about among his fellows, for hours after rising, 
with his shoes down at the heel, with his stockings 
hanging loose about his legs; or any part of his 
clothing visibly begrimed with dirt. Cleanliness 
and neatness are among the moral virtues, and can 
never be neglected by any one with impunity. 
We have no more right to render our persons dis- 
gusting to those who approach us, than we have to 
mutilate and enfeeble them. It is a duty, however 
scanty or old our garments may be, to see that they 
be neat and clean, and that our persons be kept, 
according to the best of our ability, in a manner 
evincing decency and care. I have sometimes 
seen young men passing through the corridors of 
college, and entering the recitation rooms, and even 
the prayer-hall, with their dress so broken, slovenly 
and dirty, as manifested little respect either for 
their instructors, or the God whom they professed 
to worship, or even for themselves. 



DRESS. 277 

But there is another extreme against which every 
student ought to be put on his guard. I mean that 
of inordinate and idolatrous attention to dress, 
which manifests the expenditure of much time and 
money on the object, and which designates the fop 
and the dandy. The wise youth, the real gentle- 
man, will always try to dress in such a manner as 
not to draw attention at all to his dress. His only 
study will be to have it always so plain, simple, 
neat and becoming his character, as that no one 
will find occasion to take special notice of it. Hap- 
pily you are not able to dress in a profuse and ex- 
pensive manner. The circumstances of your father 
forbid your indulging yourselves in that ornate and 
splendid costume to which, perhaps, your inclina- 
tions, if unrestrained, might lead. But if I were 
ever so wealthy, my judgment would be against 
allowing you to indulge in costly and extravagant 
adorning of the body, which is criminal in itself, 
and which seldom fails to mark the frivolous mind. 
I never knew a diligent student, a really good 
scholar, to indulge in this habit; and whenever I 
see a young man falling into it, I always involun- 
tarily set him down in my own mind as a poor 
trifle r. 

If you ask me, where is the harm of indulging 

in showy and expensive habits of dress? I answer, 

it must occupy a large share of time and attention, 

which ought to be bestowed on better objects; and 

24 



27S DRESS. 

hence those students who are distinguished by 
ostentatious and expensive clothing are never good 
scholars. It would be almost encroaching on the 
province of miracle if they were. But this is not 
all. This habit is adapted to do mischief among 
their fellow students. Those who cannot afford, 
and ought not to attempt to indulge in the same 
habit, are often tempted to imitate it, and thus their 
parents become unnecessarily involved in an ex- 
pense altogether inconvenient and perhaps distress- 
ing. By this means the cost of a college education 
is greatly increased, and placed beyond the reach 
of many who might otherwise enjoy it. Nor is 
this the worst effect. By emulating the habits in 
this respect of the sons of the wealthy, the sons of 
those in less affluent circumstances are tempted, 
contrary to the laws of the college, to get that upon 
improper credit, which they were not able to pay 
for, and which ought never to have been gotten at 
all, and thus shut themselves up to the distressing 
and humiliating dilemma, of either bringing an 
unauthorized and burdensome debt on their pa- 
rents; or of ultimately defrauding the tradesman 
who was weak enough, or wicked enough to give 
them credit. If there be any student so unprin- 
cipled as to reply, that he does not feel bound to 
regard such considerations— that he cares for no- 
thing but his own comfort — be it known to such 
an one, that he stands on substantially the same 



DRESS. 279 

ground with the burglar and the highwayman, 
who act upon the principle of consulting their own 
comfort at the expense of others, which is, in fact, 
the vital spirit of all crime. 

There is another fault in regard to dress of which 
I cannot help expressing strong reprobation. I 
mean the disposition manifested by some to wear 
fantastic dresses, not particularly expensive, per- 
haps not so expensive as many plainer and more 
simple garments; but whimsical, queer, and adapted 
to excite ridicule wherever they are seen. I remem- 
ber one young man, who, a number of years ago, 
appeared in our college campus, and in our streets, 
in a dress of the most ridiculous kind. Wherever 
he went he attracted the notice, and excited the 
laughter of all classes. This seemed to gratify him; 
for he was incapable of attaining any more laudable 
distinction; and he persisted in wearing the garment 
for a considerable time. He was hissed, and all 
but insulted by the boys in the streets, and might 
have been involved in serious broils with his assail- 
ants, had he not, fortunately, possessed a baby-like 
weakness, rather than an irritable or pugnacious 
temperament. It is easy to conceive how such 
a dress might involve its wearer in perpetual diffi- 
culty, and even in fatal conflicts. 

It is well known, that, in some literary institu- 
tions there is a prescribed dress, or uniform, in 
which all its pupils daily appear, and which it is 



280 DRESS. 

not lawful to lay aside excepting in vacation, when 
absent from the institution, or, at any rate, exempt 
from its rules. There appear to me to be some 
very substantial advantages in this regulation. In 
the first place, it promotes economy; for the pre- 
scribed dress is always plain, simple, cheap and 
easily procured, and, when obtained by wholesale, 
for large numbers, will be, of course, reduced in 
price. Secondly, it destroys that expensive emula- 
tion in dress, to which I have before referred, as so 
full of mischief. As all must dress alike, it leaves 
no room for ostentatious display. And, thirdly, 
where this rule is in operation, all the students of 
the institution are known by their costume; — so 
that the moment they are seen, they can be distin- 
guished from all others. This appears to me an 
effect of no small importance. I have always con- 
sidered it as highly desirable that the pupils of any 
institution should be distinguishable at all times^ 
day and night, from the youth of the surrounding 
population. It operates as a restraint, as a safe- 
guard, and has, doubtless, prevented a thousand 
mischiefs which would otherwise have occurred, 
and been the means of dragging to light a thou- 
sand more which might have been for ever hidden 
from human view. 

For myself I have always regretted that the old 
practice of wearing the black gown in the recitation 
room, in the chapel, and on all public occasions, 



DRESS. 281 

has been laid aside by the students of Nassau Hall, 
and, I believe, by those of most other colleges in the 
United States. In our commencement exercises 
alone, if I mistake not, this appendage is retained; 
and in some other colleges it is, even on these oc- 
casions, discarded. This is, in my opinion, an 
improvement the backward way. I have no doubt 
that this particular costume had, when it was worn, 
a beneficial effect on the feelings of the individual 
who wore it; that it led him to recollect his respon- 
sibility; to feel that he was observed, and to main- 
tain a deportment growing out of this feeling. Nor 
can I hesitate to believe, that an impression was 
made by it on the minds of others by no means 
without profit. Forms may be carried so far as to 
eat out all substance; but it is also true that they 
may be so far abandoned as to carry all refinement 
and decorum, and especially all dignity, with them. 



24* 



282 



LETTER XVII. 

CARE OF THE STUDENT'S ROOM. 

" He who can sit with comfort in a disorderly room, cannot have 
an orderly mind." — Anon. 

My Dear Sons, 

The maxim of the lawyers, Be minimis non 
curat lex, though wise and applicable in juridical 
matters, is not equally safe and sound in many of 
the affairs of common life, and especially in the 
large department of human conduct comprehended 
under the general title of personal manners and 
habits. The comfort of ordinary life depends much 
less upon great actions and movements, which 
occur only now and then, than on the minor con- 
cerns of temper, language and order, which belong 
to every hour, and exert an influence on all the 
enjoyments of life. 

The maintenance of perfect order, in the apart- 
ment which you occupy, is a matter of more im- 
portance, and has a more direct bearing on your 
comfort, and even your success in study, than you 
would, at first view, imagine. So deep is my per- 



283 



suasion of this, that I am induced to make it the 
subject of a distinct but brief letter, which, I trust, 
will be sufficiently interesting in your view to en- 
gage your serious attention. 

If the motto which stands at the head of this 
letter be considered as expressing a correct senti- 
ment, then the subject of it ought not to be regarded 
as a trivial matter. That which either indicates a 
disorderly mind, or which is adapted to increase 
and perpetuate this evil, surely ought to be avoided 
with studious care. Many people judge of a stu- 
dent by the appearance of his room; and certainly 
when it lies in disorder and dirt, no favourable 
estimate of his character can possibly be drawn 
from it. 

It is possible that some students who affect 
slovenliness in their dress, as an evidence that they 
are too much absorbed in study to think of their 
persons, may affect the same carelessness in regard 
to the apartments which they occupy. I will not 
pronounce all such appearances the result of mere 
affectation; but, beyond all doubt, they mark a 
lamentable defect of character, and cannot fail to 
deduct seriously from both the comfort and the 
usefulness of the individual to whom they belong. 

A disorderly and unclean apartment is unfriendly 
to the comfortable and uninterrupted pursuit of 
study. The physical inconvenience to which it 
gives rise, can scarcely fail to interfere with a 



284 CARE OF THE STUDENT^ ROOM. 

pleasant flow of mental thought. When books 
are out of their proper places; when all the means 
of study are in disorder, it would be strange indeed 
if the operations of the mind could proceed in as 
smooth and unobstructed a manner as if the exter- 
nal circumstances were different. 

Make a point, then, of keeping every thing in 
your study in a state of perfect neatness and regu- 
larity. Whether your books be few or many, keep 
them in their proper places, and in perfect order. 
Let all your manuscripts be so arranged as that 
you shall be able to lay your hand upon any one 
of them in a moment. Tie your pamphlets in 
bundles, in a certain order, understood by yourself, 
and as soon as may be get them bound in conve- 
nient volumes. Fold, label, and deposit in proper 
drawers, all loose papers, so as to be at no loss to 
find any one of them whenever called for. And, 
in general, let every thing in your study bear the 
marks of order, system, and perfect neatness. You 
can have no conception, without having made the 
experiment, how much time and trouble will be 
saved by the adoption of this plan. When you 
are tempted to think that you have not time to put 
a book or paper which you have been using into 
its proper place, ask yourselves whether it may not 
cost you an hour or more afterwards to search for 
that which half a minute would have sufficed to 
deposit in its appropriate situation? Let me advise 



CARE OF THE STUDENT^ ROOM. 285 

you also to preserve and file copies of all your 
letters, and especially those on any kind of busi- 
ness; and when you cannot find time for this, to 
keep at least a distinct memorandum of the dates, 
principal contents, conveyance, &c, of all such 
letters. You will, in the end, save more time by 
this regularity than you can now easily imagine. 
Among the many omissions in my early life, I 
have a thousand times lamented my having omit- 
ted, for many years, to keep copies of my business 
letters, and to preserve and file, in proper order, 
other important papers, so as to have them acces- 
sible at any time without the loss of a moment. 
How much time I have lost, and how much trouble 
I have incurred by this failure, no arithmetic at my 
command can calculate. 

Some of the most eminent men, for wisdom and 
usefulness, that the world has ever seen, were 
remarkable for their attention to the subject of this 
letter. Washington, the father of his country, 
from his early youth, was distinguished for his 
perfect method and neatness in every thing. — 
During the whole of his public life, we are told, he 
was punctual in filing and labeling every paper, 
however small, or apparently trivial, which related 
to any concern or act of his life; even notes of 
ceremony; not knowing what measure of import- 
ance any such paper might afterwards assume. So 
that no written document could be called for, re- 



2S6 CARE OF THE STUDENT'S ROOM. 

lating to his official life, which he could not at any 
time produce. 

Let no student say, that his papers can never be 
so important as were those of Washington; and 
that, therefore, there cannot be the same induce- 
ment to preserve, and keep them in order. It is, 
indeed, by no means probable that your papers 
will be as important to the public, as those of that 
illustrious man were; but they may be of quite as 
much importance to yourself; and no man can tell 
of how much interest they may be to your country. 
Peculiar and unexpected circumstances may invest 
them with a degree of importance which you can 
not now anticipate. At any rate, disposing them 
in proper and convenient order, and depositing 
them where they may be found in a moment, will 
occupy but little time, and may, long afterwards, 
serve purposes which you little imagined. 

The celebrated Mr. Whitfield, that "prince of 
preachers," in the last century, was greatly dis- 
tinguished, from early life, for neatness in his per- 
son, for order in his apartment, and for regular 
method in his affairs. He was accustomed to say, 
that a minister should be " without spot;" and 
remarked, on one occasion, that he could not feel 
comfortable, if he knew that his gloves were out of 
their proper place. The advantages of establishing 
such habits are too numerous to be specified. They 



CARE OP THE STUDENT'S ROOM. 287 

save time; and the degree of comfort they give 
cannot be easily measured. 

The biographers of the late celebrated Mr. Wil- 
berforce, tell us, that that great and good man was 
rather remarkably careless in regard to regularity 
and order in his study. While he was indefatigably 
diligent in his labours for the public, his books and 
papers were always in disorder, lying in heaps, 
and frequently giving rise to perplexity and delay 
in searching for that which was wanted. On more 
than one occasion, important papers, when called 
for by some of the most elevated persons in the 
kingdom, were out of their proper place, and not 
to be found; and gave rise to an agitation and loss 
of time not a little painful. 

Good farmers and mechanics tell us, that it is 
important to have "a place for every thing, and 
every thing in its place." This maxim is quite as 
applicable and important to the student as to any 
one else. The punctual observance of it not only 
saves time, as the slightest consideration will 
evince, but it tends to preserve tranquillity of mind; 
and, what in many cases is still more important, it 
may prevent the entire loss of papers, books, or 
other articles left out of their proper places. 



288 



LETTER XVIII. 

EXPENSES. 

" GeiS'so raiv RTEttvwv." 
"Suum cuique." 

My Dear Sons, 

It is well known that the greater part of the 
students in our colleges belong to families in very- 
moderate, and not a few of them in straitened cir- 
cumstances, insomuch that many of them find it 
extremely difficult to meet the expenses of the in- 
stitution; and to some it would be impossible with- 
out the aid of charitable funds. If we could go 
through all the classes in these institutions, and 
examine the real circumstances of each individual, 
we should find many parents subjecting themselves 
and their families to the most pinching economy, 
really denying themselves some comforts which 
many would call indispensable, for the sake of sus- 
taining their sons through a course of education. 
In other cases we should see sons subjecting them- 
selves to a rigour of economy truly severe, and 



EXPENSES. 289 

which, if it could be generally known, would be 
regarded as at once marvellous and honourable, 
as marking extraordinary decision of character 

While this is the case with one class of students, 
there is another whose course belongs to the oppo- 
site extreme. Their supplies of money are abun- 
dant. In consequence of this they are profuse and 
wasteful. Some are permitted, and even encou- 
raged by unwise parents, to indulge in habits of 
unnecessary expense; and others, stimulated by this 
example, but less able to follow it, in spite of every 
charge that can be given them to the contrary, give 
way to those habits, and recklessly incur debts 
which prove greatly oppressive to their parents, and 
sometimes plunge them into serious difficulties. 
This latter class of students may be considered as 
the pests of all literary institutions; and, next to the 
grossly immoral and profligate, (with whom, in- 
deed, they are too often very closely connected) the 
means of the greatest injury to their fellow students. 
When a student has much money in his pocket, or 
feels confident that he can rely on receiving what 
he wishes, the mischiefs arising from this source 
are so multiplied, and so very serious, that it is 
wonderful wealthy parents will ever allow their 
children to be laden with such a curse. 

The mischiefs growing out of this "plethora of 
the pocket" to the students themselves who possess 
it, are more injurious and deplorable than any one 
25 



290 EXPENSES. 

would imagine who had not personally watched 
the process of such things. He who has money to 
spend, will, of course, have objects to spend it upon; 
and these objects will certainly be, to a great ex- 
tent, hurtful. He will seldom fail to indulge him- 
self in extra eating and drinking, which, from their 
unwholesome nature, as well as from their leading 
to excess in quantity, will frequently, if not always 
do more or less harm to his health. To load the 
stomach with confectionary, and other luxuries; to 
eat hot suppers over and above all ordinary meals; 
to indulge in every rare and expensive viand, 
adapted to stimulate the appetite, and eventually 
to bring on a morbid state of the system; — these 
are the habits which every young man who is flush 
of money is tempted to form; and that their influ- 
ence must be morbid and unhappy, and may lead 
to fatal diseases, no one who reflects on the sub- 
ject can doubt. But these evils are not the whole 
of the mischief to be apprehended. The vices of 
students are commonly social. In partaking of 
their luxurious meals and other indulgences, they 
are fond of having companions; and they take 
pride in imparting of their plenty in this respect, 
gratuitously, to those who are not so plentifully 
provided with the means of indulgence. This ex- 
tends the mischief in two ways. It increases the 
number of those who are ensnared and injured; 
and it tempts both parties, by the influence of the 



EXPENSES. 291 

gregarious principle, to eat and drink more than 
either would alone. 

Nor is this all. Those who are placed under no 
stint with regard to money, are tempted to be dis- 
sipated; to neglect their studies; to be arrogant and 
assuming; to indulge themselves in various irregu- 
lar practices, unfriendly to study, and adapted to 
betray them into various forms of disorderly con- 
duct. All experience testifies that such students 
are usually the most disorderly in the institution; — 
very seldom even tolerable scholars; — and so fre- 
quently the subjects of painful and disreputable 
discipline, that these unhappy results may be con- 
fidently calculated upon the moment any young 
man appears with a plentiful supply of money in 
his pocket. 

You have reason to be thankful, my dear sons, 
that the comparative poverty of your father cuts 
you off from these temptations. And I hope you 
consider this circumstance as a real advantage 
rather than the contrary. Still allow me to put 
you on your guard against some temptations, 
which, notwithstanding this restriction on your 
means, may sometimes assail you. 

1. Never be ashamed of your narrow circum- 
stances. Never affect to have money at will. Never 
allow your wealthy fellow students to imagine that 
you envy them, or that you wish to emulate their 
dress, their appearance, and their liberality of ex- 



292 EXPENSES. 

penditure. I have sometimes felt regret and mor- 
tification to see students, who in intellectual and 
moral worth stood among the very first of their 
classes, who struggled to appear as well dressed 
as their wealthier companions, and seemed to give 
way to a painful sense of inferiority if they were 
unable to do it. There is a littleness in this of 
which a highminded youth ought to be ashamed. 
Some of the most eminent and highly honoured 
men that the world ever saw, commenced their 
career in absolute poverty, and, what was much 
to their credit, were never ashamed in their highest 
advancement, to recollect and advert to their hum- 
ble origin. Nay more, there was every reason to 
believe that their poverty, instead of being a dis- 
advantage, was the stimulus which urged them onto 
diligence in study — to the highest efforts of which 
they were capable, and to ultimate greatness. It 
was, under God, the making of them. 

2. Never accept of the gratuitous offers of your 
moneyed fellow students to share their luxuries 
with them, or to partake, at their expense, in any 
extra food or drink, or in any extra amusement, 
whether lawful or not, in which they may solicit 
you to accompany them. It is not safe to associate 
much with such students. It may expose you 
either to real disorder, or, at any rate, to the sus- 
picion of the faculty, either of which ought to be 
sacredly avoided. There is also something painful 



EXPENSES. 293 

to me, and I presume to every ingenuous mind, in 
being indebted to the bounty of such a young man 
for any enjoyment. Very few such young men 
have any real magnanimity; and they may imagine 
hereafter that you are their debtors, and feel as if 
you ought to recognise this debt, and be ready to 
return or acknowledge it. I have known gratuities 
of this kind to be cast in the teeth of those who 
consented to receive them, years afterwards, and 
to inflict not a little mortification. Never accept 
such gratuities. Whenever and by whomsoever 
offered, decline them with the respectfulness and 
urbanity of gentlemen, but with inflexible firmness. 

3. Never purchase any thing that is not indis- 
pensable, while matters absolutely necessary re- 
main unprovided for. What would you think of a 
student who should expend twenty or thirty dollars 
for a splendid set of books, which he could easily 
do without, while he had not wherewithal to pay 
his daily board, or to discharge his bill for neces- 
sary clothing? Let the honest principle, of giving 
to every one and to every claim what is justly due, 
and making a corresponding calculation in all your 
expenditures, at all times, and throughout life, 
govern you. 

4. Never think of obtaining on credit what you 
have not the cash to pay for at the moment; espe- 
cially never consent thus to obtain that which is a 
mere luxury, and which, of course, you can do 

25* 



294 EXPENSES. 

without. I have personally known students, who 
were the sons of parents in very moderate and 
even straitened circumstances, who had so little 
self-command, that, when their pockets were 
empty, they would obtain on credit mere luxuries, 
and sometimes those of a very expensive kind; and, 
perhaps, at the end of a session, had a bill brought 
in, the amount of which astonished themselves, 
and greatly incommoded their parents. The prac- 
tice of purchasing on credit, articles which are not 
necessary, is one which the wise, with one consent, 
agree in denouncing. It not only leads to all the 
evils just alluded to, but also to another no less 
serious. Those who purchase on credit must ex- 
pect to pay considerably more for a given article 
than those who pay the cash. The seller who dis- 
poses of his property in this way always calculates 
on losing a considerable portion of the whole by 
delinquent debtors. To meet and cover this loss, 
his plan is to add a certain percentage to the price 
of the article which he sells on credit; so that the 
pockets of his punctual debtors are taxed to help 
him meet the loss sustained by his delinquent ones. 
My solemn advice, therefore, would be that you 
never, especially now in your minority, purchase 
the smallest article on credit. If it be a mere 
luxury, not strictly speaking needed for your health 
or comfort, you ought not to purchase it at all, 
even if you had the money in your pocket. But 



EXPENSES. 295 

even if it be a necessary of life, you ought to post- 
pone the purchase of it as long as you can, to avoid 
the payment of a double price for it. 

The mischiefs arising from the students of our 
college purchasing on credit, and suffering bills 
against them to appear with unexpected accumula- 
tion at the end of each session, has proved so cry- 
ing an evil, and has been followed with so many 
consequences injurious to the students themselves, 
and to their parents, that the Trustees of the college 
have repeatedly and strongly remonstrated against 
the practice, and have even gone so far as to en- 
treat the parents of their pupils not to pay the bills 
for articles obtained by minors, on credit, contrary 
to the public notice and injunction of the college 
government. Nay, under a deep impression of 
the importance of the subject, the Legislature of the 
state of New Jersey has passed an act, forbidding 
any person in the neighbourhood of the college 
to give credit to any of its students, excepting 
for articles of absolute necessity, and making all 
such bills, in the case of minors, irrecoverable by 
law. 

Many a young man, as I before said, whose cir- 
cumstances were straitened, and who found it diffi- 
cult to meet the expenses of his education, has 
been, notwithstanding, in the end, among the most 
respected and beloved of his class, far more so than 
the most wealthy. And this will never fail to be 



296 EXPENSES. 

the case with any student in whose character the 
following circumstances unite. First, if he be 
among the first for scholarship. Secondly, if to his 
accomplishments in this respect he adds the dignity, 
polish, and amiableness of a Christian gentleman; 
and, thirdly, if he make it appear, by all his deport- 
ment and habits, that he knows how to estimate at 
its real value that tinsel importance which wealth 
alone can give. I once knew a young man who 
was the most indigent individual in his class. But 
he was, at the same time, the best scholar, and the 
most amiable, polished, and well-bred gentleman 
of the whole number. The consequence may easily 
be imagined. He was felt and acknowledged to 
be the master spirit of the class. All did him ho- 
mage. 

You see, then, how important it is that all orderly 
students, and all well-wishers to the college should 
guard with sacred care against every thing ap- 
proaching to an infringement of this rule, fortified 
by a civil enactment. It is not only their duty to 
avoid every thing of this kind on their own account, 
but also for the sake of example, and to co-operate 
in carrying into effect a regulation so vitally im- 
portant to the comfort and prosperity of the col- 
lege. 

I hope, my dear sons, that, as faithful alumni of 
the institution to which you owe allegiance, and as 
sincere patriots, you wish to act in this whole mat- 



EXPENSES. 297 

ter of expense, in such a manner as shall tend to 
promote on a large scale, the welfare of your Alma 
Mater, and the great interests of knowledge and 
order in the community. It is easy to see that 
every thing which tends to increase expense in the 
college must exert an unhappy influence in a 
variety of ways. Wealthy parents do not consider 
as they ought that when their sons indulge in ex- 
pensive dress, and appear able, from day to day, to 
gratify their taste by larger expenditure than the 
most of their companions in study can afford, they 
excite uncomfortable feelings in the minds of some 
less liberally supplied than themselves; they tempt 
others, who have not the means, to endeavour to 
vie with them in appearance and expenditure; they 
render the college a less eligible and pleasant place 
for indigent students; and, perhaps, prevent some 
of this character from ever becoming members of 
the institution. In this way it is that by every 
violation of wise rules and principles, the great in- 
terests of knowledge and order in the whole com- 
munity are seriously injured. 

I take for granted that some of these considera- 
tions will appear altogether too refined and abstract 
to have any weight on the minds of many of your 
fellow students. Each one will be ready to say — 
"Am I my brother's keeper? It is enough for 
every one to take care of his own claims and in- 
terests." Is this the language or the spirit of duti- 



29S EXPENSES. 

ful sons, when weighing the claims and the in- 
terests of their beloved Mma Mater? Is this the 
language or spirit of young patriots, who consider 
it as a privilege and an honour, as well as a duty, 
to promote the great cause of knowledge and virtue 
in every department of the community? I can 
only say, if there be any who feel thus and speak 
thus, they manifest a narrowness of view, and a 
miserable selfishness, of which a rational and ac- 
countable creature, and especially one in a course 
of liberal education, and training for the duties and 
responsibilities of public life ought to be ashamed. 
The situation of your father, of course, renders it 
impossible for you to think of emulating the ex- 
pensive indulgences of some of your companions 
in study. I trust, my dear sons, this circumstance 
will not give rise to one moment's pain, nor lead 
you to feel as if they were, on this account, your 
superiors. If it has imposed upon you some salu- 
tary restraints; if it has excited you to more dili- 
gence in study, and more unwearied efforts to 
cultivate, enlarge and strengthen your own minds 
— you have rather reason to rejoice than to mourn 
that your father is not a rich man. Never give 
way to the thought that money makes the man; or 
that mammon can be weighed in the scale against 
scholarship and virtue. What though you wear 
less expensive garments, and have less money to 
waste on injurious indulgences than some of your 



EXPENSES. 299 

classmates? If you stand at the head of your asso- 
ciates in literary and scientific attainments, and 
maintain that high reputation as young gentlemen 
of integrity, urbanity and honour to which I trust 
you will ever aspire, you may rely on it that the 
son of the proudest nabob, if he have no other dis- 
tinction than that which his wealth gives him, will 
feel himself an inferior in your presence. 



800 



LETTER XIX. 

ALMA MATER. 

Jubemus te salverr, Mater! — Plautus. 

My Dear Sons, 

You are aware that the technical title which the 
dutiful and grateful son of a college gives to his 
literary parent is Alma Mater. The word alma 
primarily conveys the idea of cherishing or nou- 
rishing,but it may also be considered as signifying 
holy, fair, benign, pure. And I take for granted 
that every Alumnus of such an institution, who 
has acted the part of a dutiful son while under her 
care, and who has received from her that faithful 
and affectionate training which is never withheld 
from the docile and the reverential pupil, will be 
ever ready to say of his literary parent, with all the 
delightful emotions of filial respect and gratitude — 
"Alma Mater! Sit semper florens, — semper hono- 
ratissima, — semper beata!" 

It is a maxim in common life, that when any 
young man manifests no respect for his mother, the 



ALMA MATER. 301 

conclusion is irresistible; — either that she is un- 
worthy, or that he is a brute. If this is always the 
case with a mother according to the flesh, the 
maxim holds, with equal uniformity, and with 
equal force, in regard to a literary parent. When- 
ever you meet with an alumnus of a college, who 
manifests no affection, no respect for the institution 
in which he has been trained, you may generally 
take for granted, without inquiring further, that he 
is an unworthy son, who, during his connection 
with her, acted so undutiful a part as to embitter 
all his own recollections of that connection; and to 
leave no impression on her mind which she can 
remember but with pain. 

The duties which a faithful son owes to a wor- 
thy mother are so many, and at the same time so 
obvious, that it may seem unnecessary to recount 
them. Yet as the duties due to literal mothers, plain 
and indubitable as they are, are too often forgotten 
and neglected by unworthy children according to 
the flesh; so the obligations by which educated 
young men are bound to their literary mothers are 
so seldom duly recognised or faithfully discharged, 
that a brief allusion to some of them is by no means 
a superfluous task. 

1. The first duty which every alumnus of a col- 
lege owes to his Alma Mater is to recognise his 
obligation to her, and to cherish those sentiments 
of respect, veneration and gratitude to which she is 
26 



302 ALMA MATER. 

entitled at his hands. This obligation is real and 
deep, and ought ever to be remembered and ac- 
knowledged. Every young man who has passed, 
or is passing through a course of study in a literary 
institution; who has been faithfully instructed, and 
made the subject of wholesome parental discipline, 
is deeply indebted to that institution, and ought to 
cherish a strong and permanent impression of his 
debt. What though he may be able to see faults 
in his literary mother? What though some parts 
of her discipline may have been painful to him? 
Yet his obligation is not thereby destroyed, or 
even impaired. The probability is that he, and not 
the college, was to blame for every penalty that fell 
upon him, for every frown which she manifested 
toward him; nay that every act of severity which 
gave him temporary pain, and of which he may 
be sometimes ready to make complaint, was de- 
manded by fidelity to his best interest, and, instead 
of diminishing, does but increase his obligation 

I hope, then, my dear sons, that, wherever you 
may sojourn or settle in future life, in the exercise 
of a true filial spirit, you will cherish a strong and 
lively sense of obligation to your Alma Mater. 
Whatever may be said of her defects, she has been 
a faithful mother to you. For every frown you 
may have received from her, for every rod of 
correction she may have inflicted upon you, in- 
stead of being offended, you ought to feel more 



ALMA MATER. 303 

deeply her debtors. And this debt, it will be 
equally pleasant to her, and honourable to your- 
selves ever to bear in mind, and gratefully to ac- 
knowledge as long as you live. Whenever I find 
a student greatly attached to the college in which 
he is pursuing his studies, or, after he has left it, 
cherishing a strong filial spirit toward it, I invo- 
luntarily adopt conclusions favourable to his cha- 
racter as a son. I take for granted that he has 
been a dutiful, diligent and orderly student; that 
his connection with his Alma Mater was credit- 
able to himself, as well as pleasant to her; and that 
every word he utters in her favour ought to be 
considered as redounding to his own honour. 

2. If you are thus indebted to your Alma Mater, 
ought you not to abhor the thought of destroying 
her property, or doing any thing that can pos- 
sibly tend to her injury? The most wonderful in- 
fatuation concerning this point seems to possess the 
minds of many members of our colleges. When 
they become dissatisfied on any account, with their 
instructors, one of the first things they think of is 
to wreak their vengeance on some portion of the 
college property; to destroy or deface some part of 
the public edifices, or their furniture. This, they 
imagine, will most effectually spite and mortify the 
faculty, the object of their resentment. But there 
never was a more miserable misapprehension, or a 
more fiend-like, and malignant spirit. The pro- 



304 ALMA MATER. 

perty of the institution is all vested in the board of 
trustees, the legal curators of all her interests. Of 
course, when injury is done to any of these inte- 
rests, it falls, not on the faculty, but on the college; 
impairing her strength; diminishing her power of 
doing good; and, of course, rendering her, so far 
as the injury goes, less of a blessing to the com- 
munity. 

What would be thought of a young man, who, 
when his literal mother, after a long course of 
labour and toil for his benefit, had reproved him 
for some gross fault, should wreak his vengeance 
on her dwelling and furniture, destroying or de- 
facing every thing within his reach; thus doing all 
in his power to vex and injure her whom he was 
bound upon every principle to honour and cherish? 
He would be pronounced an ungrateful, infatuated 
demon, setting at defiance, at once, every dictate 
of reason, duty, self-interest, and self-respect, for 
the gratification of a blind and brutal passion. 

Equally infatuated and demon-like is that stu- 
dent, who, when by his own folly and wickedness 
he has subjected himself to merited and most 
righteous discipline, undertakes to resent it, and to 
give expression to his anger, not by assailing the 
persons of those who have offended him, which he 
knows would subject him to still heavier discipline; 
but by attacking the property of the institution; by 



ALMA MATER. 305 

subjecting to serious loss those from whom he has 
never received any thing but benefits. 

Still less apology than even for these, can be 
made for those who, without any provocation, are 
in the habit, from mere wantonness, of cutting and 
otherwise defacing the benches, doors, window- 
frames, fences, &c, of the college, rendering them 
odious in their appearance, and, in many cases, 
altogether unfit for use. Is this the conduct which 
becomes dutiful children, who know that to injure 
their mother is to injure themselves? Ever re- 
member, my dear sons, not only that the property 
of the college is not yours but hers, and, of course, 
that you have no right to injure it in the least de- 
gree; but that your right to injure it is even less than 
if you were its rightful owner. If it were your 
oivn, you might, indeed, do as you pleased with it; 
but as it is not your own, you ought to exercise a 
far more scrupulous care not to injure it than if it 
were. But even more than this; it belongs to a 
moral parent, to whom you are deeply indebted, 
and whom to injure is even more unreasonable 
and more criminal than if you stood to her in no 
such relation. 

3. Another duty which you now owe, and will 
ever owe to your Alma Mater, is to be jealous, 
and scrupulously careful of her good name and 
honour. If the sons of a great literary parent are 
not jealous of her reputation, and do not stand 
26* 



306 ALMA MATER. 

forth as the advocates of her fame, who can be 
expected to do it? Let no alumnus say of his 
Alma Mater that he cannot conscientiously praise 
her; that she is far from being what he could wish. 
To whom does it belong to try to improve her con- 
dition, and raise her character, but to her sons? To 
withhold their praise, when they have not done all 
in their power to render her worthy of it,, is as 
ignoble as it is unjust. This consideration leads 
me to say, 

4. That you are bound to study and endea- 
vour, to the end of life, to do all in your power 
to elevate, strengthen, enrich and adorn your Mma 
Mater in all her interests. In this respect it is 
certain that the habits of our ancestors were far 
more favourable to literature than those of the 
present day. Several centuries ago, it was com- 
mon for eminent and wealthy men in the old 
world to exercise splendid munificence toward the 
seminaries of learning in which they were trained, 
or which became, on any ground, objects of their 
favour. They erected large and splendid edifices 
for libraries and halls; gave ample endowments 
for their support; founded professorships and scho- 
larships; established bursaries and premiums for 
the encouragement of pupils; and in various ways 
contributed to extend, strengthen and adorn the 
nurseries of knowledge. Almost all the principal 
buildings, and most sumptuous foundations in the 



ALMA MATER. 307 

universities of the old world, and especially of 
Great Britain, were established, not by the univer- 
sities themselves, out of their own funds, but by 
munificent individuals, many of whom have by 
this laudable liberality transmitted their names 
with honour to posterity. Nor has this praise- 
worthy practice been unknown in our own coun- 
try. The friends of Harvard University in Massa- 
chusetts, have set the noblest example of this kind 
hitherto presented on this side of the Atlantic. The 
names of Harvard, and Hollis, and Hancock, and 
Hersey, and Erving, to say nothing of several still 
more munificent later patrons, are all worthy of 
honourable commemoration. It is to be lamented 
that this species of liberality has been, in a great 
measure, confined to the single state of Massachu- 
setts. For although a few cases have occurred, 
both in the West and the South, of large endow- 
ments to literary institutions, yet they have been 
indeed "few and far between;" whereas they have 
occurred in the state just mentioned with a re- 
markable frequency, which indicated a state of 
public sentiment altogether peculiar. Besides the 
benefactors to Harvard University already men- 
tioned, the names of Bartlet, and Norris, and 
Phillips, and Farrar, will remind you of men 
who, by their princely munificence, have erected 
monuments of their liberality which will be long 
remembered with honour. 



308 ALMA MATER. 

I am aware, my dear sons, that you are never 
likely to be able to do much in the way of endow- 
ments in aid of your Mma Mater. But if it should 
please God to prosper you in your worldly circum- 
stances, you may possibly do something to testify 
your good will and filial regard. And I charge 
you, if you should ever be able, to give her, either 
during your lives, or at your decease, some me- 
morial of your gratitude and attachment. If you 
can do no more, you can probably engage some 
wealthy acquaintances, who have few or no chil- 
dren, in making a testamentary disposition of their 
property, to make your college, at least in part, 
their legatee. And perhaps you yourselves, with- 
out doing wrong to any survivor, may leave to her, 
if it be but a hundred or two dollars, as an humble 
testimonial of grateful regard. If even this were 
done by all her alumni who are able to afford it, the 
amount would, in a few years, invest her with a 
degree of enlargement and strength greatly condu- 
cive to her comfort and usefulness. 

No longer ago than last year an alumnus of the 
College of New Jersey, who was graduated with the 
class of 1776, and had filled a number of elevated 
stations in society — left in his last will, as "a testi- 
mony of attachment to his venerated Alma Ma- 
ter" one hundred volumes of books, to be selected 
from his library by a friend whom he named, and 
added to the library of the college. This was ac- 



ALMA MATER. 309 

cordingly done; and the legacy was received and 
acknowledged with marked pleasure by the board 
of trustees. Why is not something of this kind 
done more frequently? If every son of the college, 
who has it in his power were to do likewise, (and 
some could, without inconvenience, do much more,) 
the library of our college would, in a few years, 
become enlarged to a degree greatly gratifying to 
all her friends. 

The truth is, if all the friends of our college were 
cordially desirous, and really on the watch, to pro- 
mote her welfare, they might, with very little 
effort, accomplish for her an amount of benefit be- 
yond calculation. One, for example, may send to 
her library, from his own collection, a set of books, 
or a single volume of rare or curious character. 
A second, who, in the course of his travels, meets 
with one or more volumes of great rarity or value, 
may easily prevail on the owner to present them 
to the college. A third, at an expense of seven or 
eight hundred dollars, may establish a fund which 
shall produce forty or fifty dollars annually to be 
applied as a premium for ever, and paid to the best 
classical or mathematical scholar in each class that 
is graduated. A fourth, who cannot do it him- 
self, may prevail on some acquaintance of larger 
means, to erect a spacious fire-proof library, which 
has long been greatly wanted; or a convenient, 



310 ALMA MATER. 

ornamental chapel, which is equally needed, and 
which might bear the name of the donor for ever. 

A fifth, who is fond of some particular science 
taught in the institution, may be willing to make a 
large addition to the chemical apparatus, or to pre- 
sent a first-rate telescope, to aid in the study of 
Astronomy. Why — why is it that the public 
spirit, the zeal for the promotion of knowledge 
which operated so strongly in the minds of our 
fathers, and produced such honourable results, 
have so far deserted our country, or at any rate 
these middle states? I hope, my dear sons, poor 
as you are, you will do all in your power to revive 
and extend them, and try to stimulate every high- 
minded alumnus to become a benefactor, in some 
way, to his beloved literary mother. 

The fact is, every alumnus of a college who 
travels into foreign countries, might, not only with- 
out sacrifice, but with cordial gratification to his 
honourable feelings, pick up in a hundred places, 
and bring home with him, specimens of Natural 
History, models of Engines and Edifices, Casts, 
Statues, Paintings, Minerals, Coins, Manuscripts, 
&c. &c , which might be deposited on her shelves, 
to the great increase of her reputation, and to the 
enlargement of her means of promoting the im- 
provement of her pupils. 



311 



LETTER XX. 

PARENTS. 

" Indulgentia inepta Parentum."— Anon. 

My Dear Sons, 

You may feel some surprise that a letter with 
such a title should be addressed to you. But 1 
should consider this manual as essentially defective 
were it not to contain some notice of the bearing 
of parental influence on the character and con- 
duct, of many young men in college. Your own 
reflections will convince you that this influence is 
not small, and that it is often far from being happy. 
It is my wish, therefore, to take this indirect me- 
thod of reaching the consciences and the hearts of 
those parents who, perhaps, do more to lead their 
sons astray than they themselves ever imagined; 
and whose mischievous influence none but them- 
selves can ever fully correct. For my part, I be- 
lieve that, in nine cases out of ten, the bad conduct 
of the young is referable to their parents. 

And I begin by remarking, that many parents 



312 PARENTS. 

are so negligent or so unskilful in the original train- 
ing of their children, — if training it may be called, 
— that they can hardly fail to become disorderly 
members of society, and to prove a perfect nuisance 
wherever they go. Where children are suffered 
to grow up without restraint; in the indulgence of 
every wild freak, and wayward temper; nay where 
they are permitted to be the governors of their 
parents, rather than compelled to submit to their 
authority, what can be expected of such children, 
as they advance in age and in stature, but self-will, 
turbulence, and every species of revolting insubor- 
dination? Would it not be something like a miracle, 
if children thus abandoned to their own corrupt 
inclinations, should prove otherwise than disorderly 
and troublesome whenever they attempted to min- 
gle with decent people? The very element of youth 
thus brought up, may be expected to be insubor- 
dination, profaneness, self-indulgence in every form, 
forgetfulness of truth, and a disregard to the rights 
and the comfort of others. 

Many such young men are sent to college, and 
there they expect to govern, as they had done at 
home. There, when not permitted to have their 
own way in every thing, and even to invade the 
rights of others with impunity, they think them- 
selves hardly and oppressively treated. Nor is a 
mistake on this subject theirs alone. Their parents 
are apt to participate in it. And, therefore, when 



PARENTS. 313 

they hear that their sons have drawn upon them- 
selves the discipline of the college, or been sent 
away from it, they are filled with surprise, and 
conclude that the faculty must, of course, be to 
blame. Strange infatuation! Surely the blindness 
of parental partiality is beyond all bounds! When 
children are not taught at home to honour and obey 
their parents; to love and observe domestic order; 
to regard the truth; to avoid profane language; to 
pay respect to the feelings of others, what can be 
expected when they leave home, and are, of course, 
removed from the eye of their immediate connec- 
tions? Can there be any rational hope that they 
will be found comfortable or respectable members 
of any literary institution to which they may be 
sent? As well might we expect to " gather grapes 
of thorns, or figs of thistles." It will be well, in- 
deed, if those who have been taught and trained in 
the best manner, shall carry with them to the aca- 
demy and the college, the sentiments and habits 
which have been inculcated upon them. But where 
the parental mansion has never resounded with the 
voice of prayer and praise; where no father's or 
mother's affection has ever impressed upon their 
minds the duty of obedience to the laws under 
which they are placed; of reverence for God, for 
the Bible, for the Lord's day, and for every thing 
sacred; and of benevolent regard to the feelings of 
others, we cannot reasonably hope for any thing, 
27 



314 PARENTS. 

from such young people, but insubordination and 
every evil work. If the result be different, every 
one who contemplates the circumstance, regards it 
as a matter of wonder and congratulation. 

We are told of an ancient Grecian sage, that, 
when he saw any young person behaving ill in the 
street, or in any public place, he immediately went 
to the house of his parents, and corrected them, as 
the probable cause of their son's delinquency. The 
conclusion was wise, and the course taken rational. 
When I see a young man noisy, insolent, swag- 
gering, profane, coarse in his manners, and disre- 
spectful to his superiors — I pity him; — I spontane- 
ously say, within myself — " poor lad! he has had a 
wretched bringing up; he knows no better;" his 
parents have either known no better themselves, or 
they have had neither the principle nor the skill 
to lead him in the right way; and hence he has 
grown up, " like a wild ass's colt." I verily be- 
lieve that nine-tenths of all the disobedience to law, 
and all the consequent disorders in colleges are to 
be traced to the unhappy delinquencies of parents; 
and that no effectual cure of the evil can be ex- 
pected, but through the medium of parental refor- 
mation. Oh, if fathers and mothers — even the 
most worldly of them— had a just sense of what 
their sons need in going forth to complete their 
education; if they made a just estimate of what 
true politeness is — that it does not consist in fine 



PARENTS. 315 

clothes — in graceful movements, or in a haughty- 
strut and air; but in a deportment at once respect- 
ful, benevolent, and adapted to make all around us 
happy; — what a different aspect would all our 
social circles, and all our literary institutions pre- 
sent! Parents certainly impose a heavy and most 
unreasonable task on college officers, when they 
expect them to make scholars and gentlemen of stu- 
pid asses, headstrong rebels, and miserable boors, 
whom they found it impossible either to instruct or 
govern at home. 

But this is not the whole of the evil which flows 
from parental delinquency. Parents not only send 
to college young men without any of the qualities 
which fit them to be either wholesome or comfort- 
able members of a literary institution; without 
either the decorum or the docility which prepare 
them to be successful or even tolerable students; 
but they too often set themselves against the efforts 
of the faculty, by faithful instruction and discipline, 
to correct the faults and better the character of their 
children. It would be distressing to recount the 
instances, in which parents have become grievously 
offended at measures of the most wise and indis- 
pensable kind to promote the welfare of their sons. 
I have known many cases in which, instead of feel- 
ing grateful to the authority of college, for frowning 
on the gross disorders of their sons, and inflicting 
the lightest discipline that could be thought of for 



316 PARENTS. 

their offences, they have taken the part of their 
sons against the authority; considered them as 
hardly dealt with; and encouraged them to resist 
the discipline to which they were subjected. The 
injury done to young men by this conduct on the 
part of their parents cannot be calculated. How 
is it possible to conduct discipline with success, 
when it is thus resisted and reviled by those who 
ought zealously to sustain it? What encourage- 
ment have the officers of such institutions to labour 
and toil for the benefit of youth, when those who 
ought to be most grateful to them for their painful 
efforts, turn against them, and strengthen the hands 
of their rebellious children? 

I must say, my dear sons, that, in the course of 
a long life, I have no recollection of having ever 
known an instance in which a member of college 
appeared to me to have been visited with more 
severe discipline than he deserved. My impres- 
sion is, that, where there is an error in regard to 
this matter, it is almost always the other way. 
And, therefore, I give you fair warning before- 
hand, that if (what I hope will never happen) you 
should fall under the lash of college authority, you 
must not expect me to interpose and rescue you 
from it. I shall take for granted, anterior to all 
inquiry on the subject, that you richly deserve all 
you get and more. 

An example of noble bearing on this subject 



PARENTS. 317 

once occurred in Princeton, which I cannot forbear 
to relate, as affording a specimen of what ought 
much more frequently to be exhibited than we find 

to be the case. General C , a highly respectable 

inhabitant of a neighbouring city, who had himself 
had two sons educated in our college, and who 
was, therefore, well acquainted with the institution, 
happened, some years ago, to be passing through 
Princeton on the very day in which two students 
of the college had been suspended and ordered to 
go home on account of their disorderly conduct. 
They came into the hotel, where the General had 
stopped to refresh himself, and were complaining 
of the treatment which they had received from the 
faculty of the college, in a loud manner, and with 
much foul language. He, at first, was silent; but 
their vehement complaints being continued, and 
after a while appearing to be partly addressed to 
himself — he looked at them with a stern counte- 
nance, and said — " Young men, I know nothing of 
you or your case: but I have long known the 
Faculty of New Jersey College, and know them to 
be scholars and gentlemen. I am sure, from your 
present behaviour, they are in the right, and you 
in the wrong; and, if you were my sons, I would 
drive you back, with a good cowskin, to the pre- 
sence of the Faculty, and compel you to ask their 
pardon on your knees." Though the culprits did 
not know him, yet his age, his commanding figure, 
27* 



318 PARENTS. 

and his air of superiority prevented their giving 
way to resentment. But it is hardly necessary to 
say, that they slunk out of the apartment abashed 
and silent. 

It is earnestly to be wished, that public sentiment 
generally, and especially the sentiments and con- 
duct of the leading members of society, might 
always be found speaking the same language, and 
taking the part of rightful authority, against juve- 
nile insubordination and insolence. But, alas! this 
is so far from being the case that, perhaps, no com- 
plaint is better founded than that which mourns 
over the prevalence of an opposite course. 

The following remarks by the venerable Bishop 
Meade, extracted from a publication from his pen 
noticed in a former letter, are worthy of being so- 
lemnly regarded by every parent. " On this subject, 
let me say one word to parents, in behalf of the 
schools and colleges in our land. Heavy, indeed, 
are the complaints of teachers and professors against 
you in this respect. I hear them wherever I go. You 
are considered as the great obstacles to the right 
government of youth in our literary institutions of 
every grade. Those who have charge of your 
children declare, that you withhold your support 
from them in the most trying emergency; that your 
blind partiality to your sons leads you to receive 
any statement they may make, or your false views 
of discipline lead you to palliate, if you do not 



PARENTS. 319 

justify conduct which is perfectly inadmissible in 
any well ordered institution. They declare, that it 
seldom happens that a youth is dismissed, without 
rinding in the parent one to justify him, and con- 
demn them." 

There is yet another way in which parents are 
found not only to injure their sons in college, but 
also to inflict a serious injury on the character and 
all the best interests of the institution with which 
they are connected. I mean by supplying them 
profusely with money, from time to time, and thus 
enabling them to gratify their appetites, and tempt- 
ing them to indulge in freaks of wild disorder, and 
of mischievous expenditure. This infatuation on 
the part of parents, has proved a source of wider 
and more irreparable mischief than I could easily 
detail. I am very sure that if parents who have 
either any reflection or any principle, could be made 
to understand how deeply such profusion on their 
part is adapted to injure their sons, and to injure 
the college, they would no more think of indulging 
it, than they would the thought of sending to their 
beloved children, every month, the most virulent 
poison to be mingled with their daily food. 

It is deeply to be deplored that there are, around 
our colleges, so many persons ready to be meanly 
and criminally purveyors to the appetites of the 
students; who, in defiance of all the laws of the 
state, and of the authority of the institutions them- 



320 PARENTS. 

selves; nay, in defiance of all the dictates of their 
own ultimate interest, spread snares for their feet, 
and lead them on, in many cases, to the breaking 
up of all their sober habits, and ultimately to their 
eternal destruction. But the most astonishing and 
humbling fact of all is, that parents — who have 
the deepest interest in the welfare of their children, 
and who might be expected to feel for the well- 
being of the children of others — cannot be per- 
suaded to frown on those unprincipled conspira- 
tors against youth, and to try and make them 
feel, in the only way in which they seem capable 
of feeling — I mean in their pockets — that they 
are engaged in a nefarious traffic which cannot 
ultimately profit them. 



321 



LETTER XXI 



VACATIONS. 



Ne mihi otium quidem fuit unquam otiosum. — Cicero. 
Simul et jucunda et idonea vitae.— Anon. 

My Dear Sons, 

I know of few things more adapted to draw a 
distinct and visible line between a wise student and 
a foolish one than the occurrence of a vacation. To 
the latter, who is too commonly a mere terrm 
filius — who has no love to knowledge — who only 
consented to become a member of a literary insti- 
tution from mere boyish vanity, or to comply with 
the wishes of his parents; who desires to enjoy the 
name of a student, without his toil or his attain- 
ments; — to him the occurrence of a vacation is the 
most welcome of all events. He is delighted to 
escape from study. He is no less gratified, per- 
haps, to escape from the control and decorum 
which the supervision of the faculty imposes upon 
him, and rejoices in the prospect of being able to 



322 VACATIONS. 

give himself up, for five or six weeks, to every 
kind of dissipation that his heart may desire. 

Very different from these are the feelings with 
which a wise and exemplary student contemplates 
the approach of a recess from study. He rejoices 
in it, indeed, but not as a period of escape from 
painful restraint, for he feels none:— not as a sea- 
son of relief from study; for he loves knowledge, 
and considers it as a privilege to receive it from the 
hands of his regular instructors. He looks forward 
to such an event, however, with real pleasure, as 
affording him an opportunity to see his friends, and 
to gratify filial and fraternal affection; to promote 
his health by an abundance of wholesome exercise; 
and also to enjoy the privilege of attending to 
some branches of literary culture which his pre- 
scribed tasks may have prevented him from enjoy- 
ing. For these reasons he looks forward to it with 
calm and rational pleasure. He takes a temporary 
leave of the walls of his Alma Mater with the 
decorum and dignity of a gentlemen, who re- 
spects her, and at the same time respects him- 
self. In travelling to the place of his residence, 
he is not seen associating with the noisy, the vulgar 
and the vile; he is not heard uttering the language 
of profaneness and brutality, so as to excite the 
wonder of every decent beholder, where such a 
young cub could have received his training. 

From the foregoing statement you will easily 



VACATIONS. 323 

perceive how your father would wish you to meet 
and to spend your vacations. You will, of course, 
anticipate them with pleasure. And you will, I 
hope, contemplate them very much as every wise 
man regards relaxation from the severer duties of 
life, as means of refreshment and strength, and of 
preparation for returning to those duties with re- 
newed alacrity and pleasure. The idea of making 
a vacation a season of mere vacuity, or of lawless 
riot, is too ignoble, I trust, to be entertained for a 
moment by you. You will, I hope, look forward 
to such a recess as a season of much value, which 
ought to be carefully improved, and always ren- 
dered subservient to some valuable acquisition. 

We are told of the celebrated Sir William Jones, 
that eminent philologist, and master of juridical 
and oriental learning, that, in his youth, he was in 
the habit of paying an annual, and sometimes a 
more frequent visit, of several weeks to London. 
As that city was his native place; and as he had, of 
course, from that circumstance, and from the re- 
spectability of his character, a large circle of ac- 
quaintance there, and was every hour surrounded 
with scenes of luxury and entertainment, it might 
have been expected that his visits would have been 
all devoted to company and amusement. But 
this amiable and highly cultivated youth was of 
"another spirit." His impression of the value of 
knowledge and of time was too deep to allow him 



324 VACATIONS. 

thus to employ even a few weeks of recess from 
prescribed study. He generally, we are told, made 
each visit to the city subservient to the acquisition 
of a new language. Why may not you, my dear 
sons, assign to every vacation which occurs in 
your college course the execution of some task 
which may be of solid use to you as long as you 
live? For example; when a recess of five or six 
weeks occurs in the spring, suppose you were to 
resolve to devote the vacant hours which occur 
during that time to a careful and thorough perusal 
of Milton's Paradise Lost, and Paradise Re- 
gained; and for that purpose, to take the volumes 
with you, wherever you went, and to study them 
with that closeness of attention which becomes 
those who are desirous of being familiar with 
works of which it is disgraceful to any English 
scholar to be ignorant. In the vacation of similar 
extent in the autumn, you may peruse with like 
attention and profit the eight volumes of the Spec- 
tator, in the pages of which Addison, Steele, and 
others, who adorned the Augustan age of English 
literature, made so distinguished a figure. In the 
vacation of the following spring, let your leisure 
hours be employed in reading with attention, some 
of the best parts of Shakspeare's dramas. I say 
the best parts; for I would not recommend the in- 
discriminate study of all that goes under the name 
of that great writer. It is doubtful, as you probably 



VACATIONS. 325 

know, whether some of the plays bound up with 
his works are really his; and with regard to some 
others, confidently considered as genuine, they 
can by no means be recommended as likely to 
improve either the literary taste or the moral sen- 
timents of those who peruse them. Let your spe- 
cial attention be directed to his Macbeth; his 
Richard 11; his Henry IV, Henry V, and Hen- 
ry VI; his Richard 111; his Henry VIII; his 
King Lear; his Romeo and Juliet; his Hamlet; 
and his Othello. With these I would advise you 
to stop; and these, if read as they ought to be, 
will be more than sufficient to occupy the dispos- 
able hours of one vacation. Let the next season 
of a similar kind be devoted to the perusal of 
Pope's works; the next to Johnson's Lives of the 
Poets; and so, in succession, to the other works of 
Johnson* and to those of Thomson, Goldsmith, 
Cowper, Beattie, &c, as opportunity may present. 
If to these you could find time to add Robertson's 
History of Charles V, Hume's History of England, 
Hallam's Middle Jlges, and the same writer's Con- 
stitutional History of England, you would find 
yourselves greatly profited by the series. How 
much better to have a system of this sort, than to 
be at a loss, as many are, during the hours of 
vacation, how to kill the time; often in perfect 
ennui, or, perhaps, running over the columns of a 
newspaper of last year, or of an old almanack, for 
28 



326 VACATIONS. 

the sake of guarding against utter vacuity! If this 
plan or any thing like it were faithfully preserved, 
every student in college, before his regular course 
was closed, would be familiar with the best masters 
of sentiment, of diction, and of knowledge that the 
English language affords. 

But perhaps some of your vacations may be 
spent entirely in travelling. Where this can be 
done, it may be made not only one of the most inter- 
esting, but also one of the most profitable modes 
of spending a few weeks of recess from regular 
study. Even then, you may take some classical 
English volumes with you, and turn the perusal of 
them to excellent account in the leisure hours 
which occur in all journeying. But aside from the 
opportunities of reading which seldom fail to occur 
in steamboats, and other vehicles of public convey- 
ance, you ought to remember that, even when you 
are shut out from these avenues to knowledge, 
there are others open to you, even by the very cir- 
cumstances which preclude reading. This is com- 
monly prevented by the crowd of company in 
which we are placed. But is there nothing to be 
gained by a vigilant and wise use of this very com- 
pany as a source of information? 

I know, indeed, that reckless young men, intent 
only on animal gratification, are apt to pass from 
place to place, when they are travelling, and from 
one crowded public vehicle to another, without an 



VACATIONS. 327 

effort, or even a thought of adding to their stock of 
knowledge. Whereas, a young man desirous of 
learning something from every place which he 
visits, of gleaning instruction from every company 
into which he is thrown, will be ever on the watch 
to make the most of every scene through which he 
passes. He will try to inform himself, even in his 
most cursory journeyings, of the history, character, 
and peculiarities of the canals, railroads and turn- 
pikes over which he is borne. He will mark and 
record the agricultural, the commercial and the 
manufacturing conditions of every district which 
he has an opportunity of seeing. He will note 
well all the internal improvements, the literary, 
moral, and religious state of every neighbourhood; 
the numbers, relative strength, prospects, and 
wants of the different ecclesiastical denominations, 
and particularly any institutions or practices which 
may be worthy of imitation. Such a wise youth, 
in travelling, will always, of course, keep a diary; 
and, if his observation and his notes be such as 
they ought to be, he will return from every journey 
with an amount of new information, richer and 
more vividly impressed on the mind than he could 
possibly gain from books. 

Not only so; but in every such journey an atten- 
tive traveller, who is on the watch for incidents 
and sources of improvement, will, of course, fall in 
with companions in travel, from whom he may 



328 VACATIONS. 

learn much which books would never teach him. 
He will, probably, seldom enter a crowded public 
vehicle without meeting with one and another who 
have visited remote parts of the world, and from 
whom he might derive information imparted with 
all the impressiveness which the living speaker, 
and the animated countenance can alone confer. 
In such circumstances, in almost every journey, a 
young traveller, if awake to the opportunities of 
instruction, may collect an amount of information 
concerning foreign countries — concerning Rome or 
Jlthens, concerning Palestine and Jerusalem, con- 
cerning Egypt and Cairo and the Pyramids, &c., 
for which he would look in vain in any printed 
volume. Why is it that so few young men, who 
have life before them; who might be benefited as 
well as adorned by such information; and who 
might gather up by handfuls instructive facts con- 
cerning every part of the world, are so little awake 
to the value of the privilege, and so little disposed 
to avail themselves of the advantages which it 
offers? It is evident that in this way the travels of 
others may be made substantially their own. 

Thus you see, my dear sons, that wherever you 
may spend your vacations — whether at home, or 
in journeying; whether among friends or strangers, 
it will be your own fault if you do not make them 
truly and richly profitable. Surely to have an 
opportunity of reading valuable works which could 



VACATIONS. 329 

not be read during term-time; or to visit different 
parts of the country-; or to see more of the world; 
or to converse with different classes of men — are 
advantages which will be lightly esteemed by none, 
who have minds capable of making the estimate. 
When, therefore, 1 see a student reckless of all 
these advantages, the moment a vacation begins, 
trying to escape from all reading, as having had 
too much of it in term-time; flying from the com- 
pany of the grave and the wise, from whom he 
might learn much, and frequenting the haunts of 
the dissipated and disorderly; everywhere smoking, 
drinking and racketing with the children of folly; — 
when I see this, I instinctively regard such a young 
man as "void of understanding;" lost to himself 
and his friends; and as much more likely to prove 
a disgrace than an honour to the place of his edu- 
cation. 



28' 



330 



LETTER XXII. 

MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS— CONCLUSION. 

Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter; fear God, and 
keep his commandments; for this is the whole duty of man. — 
Eccles. xii. 1 3. 

My Dear Sons, 

I have now touched as briefly, and yet as point- 
edly as I know how, on the leading topics which 
appear to me to be peculiarly interesting to you as 
students in college. I would fain hope that I have 
gained your assent to every successive remark as 
I went along. But of one thing I am confident, 
that you will give me credit for having uttered my 
sincere and unbiassed convictions in all that I have 
said. You cannot suspect me of a sinister design 
in any one of the counsels which occupy the fore- 
going pages. No, my sons, I have no desire to 
damp the sanguine joy, or cloud the smiling sun of 
your youth. I would not take from you a single 
rational pleasure. On the contrary, I delight to see 
you happy; and desire, by all the means in my 



CONCLUSION. 331 

power, to promote your true enjoyment and honour. 
But you must allow me now, in my advanced life, 
when I have seen so much of the illusions of the 
world, and so many examples of the destruction of 
those who yielded to them, to counsel you, not in 
the style of youthful flattery, but in the language 
of" truth and soberness." I have not attempted to 
carry a point with you by overpainting, or by any 
other artifice. If you have a real disinterested 
friend on earth, who unfeignedly wishes to promote 
your best interests in both worlds, it is he who has 
penned the foregoing letters. And in publishing 
them for the benefit of others, I have endeavoured 
to put myself, in thought, in the place of the parents 
and guardians of all your fellow students, and to 
speak to them all as my own beloved children. I 
have not given a counsel or an injunction but what 
I conscientiously believe, if followed, will be for 
your benefit, as a candidate for success and happi- 
ness in this world, as well as an immortal being. 
Nay, I have not given a counsel but what I am 
verily persuaded your own judgment will sanction, 
twenty years hence, if you should live so long, and 
which, if you neglect it, will be matter of bitter 
self-reproach to you to the end of life. 

I have been young, my dear sons, and now am 
old. I have been, as you know, a member of a 
college, as you now are; and, of course, I know 
something of the habits, the follies, the prejudices, 



332 CONCLUSION. 

the snares and dangers with which you are sur- 
rounded. Now, when 1 have laid open my whole 
heart to you concerning these matters, and have 
told you, with all the conscientiousness of truth, 
and with all the tenderness of parental affection, 
how these things appear to me in the decline of 
life, and in view of my final account, will you not 
listen to me? 

Perhaps, in the fulness of your filial feelings, you 
may be ready, after reading what has been written, 
to say — "All these counsels are right: all these 
things will we do." But, rely upon it, to carry this 
resolution into effect will not be so easy as you 
imagine. The rashness of inexperience; the im- 
petuosity of youthful feeling; the sudden burst of 
passion; the folly and violence of companions in 
study, — all — all endanger,every day, the overthrow 
of your discretion; and may, in an unexpected 
hour, as it were spring a mine under your feet, and 
disconcert, before you are aware, all those plans of 
order which in your calmer moments you had 
adopted, and determined to follow. Under these 
impressions, allow me to close this letter, and this 
whole manual, with a few counsels, which a heart 
most anxious for your welfare, as long as it shall 
continue to beat, will not cease to pray, may be 
deeply impressed upon your minds : and 

1. Be not confident of your own power to do 
all that your judgment tells you is right; all that 



CONCLUSION. 333 

you have resolved to do, in conformity with the 
foregoing letters. Your feelings are sometimes 
strong, and, in an evil hour, may overpower your 
judgment. Your inclinations, never to be implicitly 
trusted, may run counter to your duty and get the 
victory: and some plausible fellow student, less 
worthy of respect than you have hitherto thought 
him, maty set a trap and ensnare you, before you 
are aware, and may involve you in a difficulty 
from which retreat is not easy. On all these ac- 
counts, and others too numerous to be specified in 
detail, be not confident that it will be an easy thing 
to adhere to your resolutions, and to perform all 
the duties which your judgment tells you ought to 
be performed, by wise and orderly students. 

2. If you feel your own weakness, and the 
power of temptation in any measure as you ought, 
you will be disposed to look for aid from above, 
and to pray without ceasing for the guidance and 
strength which you need. Whenever any exigency 
arises which requires decision, especially if it in- 
volves any question of difficulty, be not in haste to 
act. Pause, reflect, and calculate both probable 
and possible consequences. Ask direction from 
your father's and mother's God. And if the path 
of duty be still doubtful, take that course which 
will be obviously safe, rather than that which is 
adapted to gratify a spirit of vanity and youthful 
display. It is the counsel of prudence, as well as 



334 CONCLUSION. 

of holy scripture, " acknowledge God in all your 
ways, and He will direct your steps." 

I should feel, my dear sons, as if I had gained 
much, if I could find you deeply impressed with a 
sense of your danger of being led astray, and of 
your constant need of guidance and aid from above. 
Nothing less, you may rest assured, will suffice for 
your protection. We may speculate, and philoso- 
phize and prescribe as much as we please about 
other remedies for the corrupt tendencies and temp- 
tations of the young; but they will all be vain. 
"The strong man armed" can never be overcome 
and cast out, but by One stronger than he. We 
may tell young men, every day that we live, of the 
wisdom and happiness of virtue. We may demon- 
strate to them with all the force of reasoning, and 
with all the power of eloquence, that the path of 
temperance, of diligence in study, and of undeviat- 
ing regularity in every respect, is the wisest course. 
We may assure them that it is as much their hap- 
piness and their honour as it is their duty, to be all 
that their instructors can require or wish. We may 
tell them all this; and they may fully believe us. 
Nay, they know that it is so. Their judgments and 
their consciences are decisively in favour of it all. 
But, alas! their hearts are not gained. In spite of 
all that we can say, when passion pleads; when 
the syren voice of pleasure calls, away they will 
hasten "as an ox goeth to the slaughter." The 



CONCLUSION. 335 

admonitions of conscience are either not heard at 
all, or, if heard, speedily silenced by the overflow- 
ing tide of youthful feeling. Alas! how many 
young men whose sober convictions, Avhen con- 
sulted, are strongly on the side of what is right, 
have, notwithstanding, from the mere influence of 
appetite and passion, or the impulse of still more 
inflamed and infatuated companions, in an evil 
hour, plunged irretrievably into courses which have 
destroyed them, soul and body, for ever! how 
constantly and importunately ought those who are 
exposed to such temptations and perils, to implore 
that guardianship which can alone guide them 
aright! 

3. Recollect that you are every day forming 
habits and establishing a character, which will pro- 
bably follow you through life. The great difficulty 
of most students is that they "do not consider." 
They cannot be persuaded to lay to heart the im- 
portance of every day they live, and of every 
opportunity they enjoy. They have but one life 
to live. The precious time which is now pass- 
ing, and the privileges with which they are now 
favoured, can never return. 0, if young men could 
be induced to "consider their ways;" to "look be- 
fore they leap;" to reflect seriously before they act; 
and to prize as they ought the price now put into 
their hands for getting wisdom;— how many of 
their false steps would be prevented! How many 



336 CONCLUSION. 

of those deplorable calamities which cloud their 
course, and pain the hearts of parents, would be 
happily averted! 

4. Think how easy it is, in the outset, to avoid 
being implicated in the disorders of a college, com- 
pared with what it is in the progress of the mischief. 
In the commencement of such disorder, one simple 
rule, like a perfect panacea, will deliver you from 
all embarrassment. That rule is, without any 
reference to its character or its aim, to have no con- 
nection with it; to decline attending its meetings; 
signing its papers, or concurring in its applications. 
By abstaining, kindly and respectfully, but firmly, 
from all participation in the proposed movement, 
no harm can be done in any case: whereas in 
allowing yourselves to be implicated in a move- 
ment which in the outset may appear perfectly in- 
nocent, you may be unexpectedly drawn into a 
vortex of disgrace and ruin. What was only in- 
tended to be a piece of harmless merriment, or a 
respectful request, has, perhaps, insensibly grown 
into a combination of infatuated rebels. " Behold 
how great a matter a little fire kindleth!" 

Shall we never have done with scenes of insub- 
ordination and disorder in our colleges? Are stu- 
dents in our highest literary institutions more 
unreasonable and perverse than other young men? 
Are they less accessible to ingenuous sentiments; 
less open to conviction from the plainest reasoning; 



CONCLUSION. 337 

less desirous of happiness; less capable of elevated 
and manly feelings than others of their age differ- 
ently situated? It cannot be. Surely the air of a 
college cannot, as a matter of course, inebriate all 
who breathe it. Surely the walls of a college can- 
not blind and stultify all who inhabit them. Surely 
college students, the moment they become such, 
cannot be at once transformed into such miserable 
cowards, or such incorrigible fools, as, of course, 
like a flock of silly sheep, to follow in the train of 
every ruffian blockhead who chooses to leap over 
a precipice, and destroy himself. Why, then, does 
it so often happen, that those young men who, 
under the parental roof, were amiable, ingenuous, 
and docile; after being advanced to the higher 
privileges, and more enlarged instruction of a col- 
lege, are so apt to become blinded by passion, the 
sport of childish feeling, and more disposed than be- 
fore to "call evil good, and good evil; to put dark- 
ness for light, and light for darkness; to put bitter 
for sweet, and sweet for bitter. Causa latet, vis 
est notissima. And yet, I know not that the 
cause is really hidden. The gregarious principle, 
which, when sanctified, is productive of so much 
good, may become, when perverted, a source of 
incalculable evil. Hence it so often happens that 
associated bodies, in the fervour of their feelings, 
and in the madness of their spasmodic excitements, 
29 



338 CONCLUSION. 

are found to do things of which any individual of 
their whole number would be utterly ashamed. 

Can you, for a moment, doubt, my beloved sons, 
that it is as much your interest as it is your duty^ 
to be perfectly exemplary in all your relations to 
the college of which you are members? Can you 
doubt that it will be for your own happiness and 
honour to obey every law of the institution; to per- 
form all your prescribed tasks with diligence and 
faithfulness; and to treat every one both within 
and without its walls with the urbanity of perfect 
gentlemen? I am sure you cannot and do not 
doubt concerning one jot or tittle of all this. Why, 
then, why are these principles really and faith- 
fully acted upon by only one in ten or twenty of 
the students of any college in our land? I could 
sit down and weep when I learn, from day to day, 
from so many channels of public intelligence, and 
from colleges in almost every quarter of our coun- 
try, of masses of students who appear as if their 
constant and supreme study was how they might 
most effectually secure their own disgrace and 
misery, and render those around them also as mise- 
rable as possible. 

Cannot young gentlemen, in circumstances so 
conspicuous and responsible, be persuaded to ap- 
preciate their own interest? Can they not be 
prevailed upon, if they will not respect others, at 
least to respect themselves; to respect public 



CONCLUSION. 339 

opinion, to which they look for high honours, and 
on which they rely for that brilliant success which, 
as a matter of course, they anticipate for them- 
selves. Above all, can they not be persuaded to 
respect that high and holy one, whose favour is 
life, and whose loving kindness is better than life? 
If they consider it as an honourable achievement 
to deceive and overreach the faculty, can they 
regard in a similar light that conduct which de- 
grades themselves, and is a prelude to inevitable 
shame? Alas! for the infatuation of young men 
who can glory in their own dishonour, and boast 
of intellectual and moral suicide! 

When I compare what young men might gain 
in college, with what they usually do gain, the con- 
trast is most humiliating. Instead of striving to 
enrich their minds with every kind of literary and 
scientific acquirement adapted to prepare them for 
an elevated and honourable course in life; instead 
of labouring to gather knowledge by handfuls, and 
to make every session a source of intellectual 
wealth; how many act as if their object were to 
gain a. diploma to which they had no title; to cheat 
themselves and their parents by clutching a mere 
barren parchment! 

Here, my dear sons, I must take my leave of you, 
and close these counsels. And yet I scarcely know 
how to lay aside my pen. Not that I feel as if I 
had any thing new, or more weighty than has been 



340 CONCLUSION. 

already expressed, to say; but because I scarcely 
know how to tear myself away from the chair of 
affectionate, paternal counsel, or cease to exhort 
and entreat, when I feel that so much may depend 
on "a word in season" to those whose habits and 
character are forming. But to the God of your 
parents, I must now commit you. May He be your 
Protector and your Guide! This shall be the un- 
ceasing prayer of your affectionate friend and 
father, 

SAMUEL MILLER. 

Princeton, February 1st, 1843. 



POSTSCRIPT TO LETTER XI. 

(Accidentally left out when the manuscript was sent to the press.) 

In enumerating the particular studies which 
ought to engage the special regard of every young 
man who wishes to make the most of himself, I 
would mention, with peculiar emphasis, Me art of 
composition in his own language, I know of 
no accomplishment more adapted to increase the 
power of an educated man. Many an individual 
who has been cut off by disease from the active 
duties of a public profession, has been enabled to 
serve his country and the Church of God more ex- 
tensively and effectually by his pen, than he could 
have otherwise done in the enjoyment of his best 
vigour; and many others, who were active and 
illustrious in their professional character, have ren- 
dered themselves still more illustrious and more 
permanently useful, by their force and eloquence 
as writers. Would any wise man grudge the in- 
tellectual labour which should enable him to write 
the English language as it has been written by the 
author of Junius; by Edmund Burke; by Robert 
Hall; by Thomas Chalmers; by Thomas Babing- 



342 POSTSCRIPT TO LETTER XI. 

ton Macaulay, of Great Britain; to say nothing of 
a few eminent men in our own country? True, in 
the writings of these men there is great diversity, 
and each has beauties and faults peculiar to him- 
self: but in all there is a wonderful power well 
worthy of emulation. 

I have spoken of the labour of learning to write 
in the masterly manner attained by the eminent 
men just mentioned, and by others of the last and 
present century, whose names deserve a place in 
the same honourable list. And truly, I know of 
no art in which unwearied, persevering labour is 
more indispensable to the attainment of high ex- 
cellence, than that of which I am speaking. It 
has long been an accredited proverb, — Poeta nas- 
citur non Jit. But there is hardly an accomplish- 
ment to which the principle of this proverb is less 
applicable than the art of composition. There is no 
doubt that some acquire it much more easily and 
readily than others; but in all it requires a degree 
of study and of practice to which very few are 
willing to submit. It requires such a careful pe- 
rusal of the best writers; such a laborious compari- 
son of different styles; such a persevering study of. 
the principles of language; and such an indefatiga- 
ble repetition of efforts, as no toil can discourage. 
No one ever wrote well, who did not write much. 
I care not how great his talents; if he imagines 
that this kind of excellence will come, so to speak, 



POSTSCRIPT TO LETTER XI. 343 

"in the natural way," and disdains the employ- 
ment of unwearied labour to attain it, he will pretty 
certainly fail of success. 

The instruction of experience on this subject is 
ample, and very decisive. To illustrate my posi- 
tion, I might adduce many signal examples. The 
late Charles James Fox, of Great Britain, as a par- 
liamentary debater, was, perhaps, never exceeded. 
It is probable that no man ever rose in the English 
House of Commons who displayed so much elo- 
quence of the true Demosthenian stamp as that 
celebrated statesman. As a public speaker, he was 
simple, clear, inexhaustibly rich, profound, and 
trancendently forcible: But when he took pen in 
hand, he fell far below himself. All his published 
works (except his speeches, which were taken 
from his lips by stenographers) manifest a second 
or third rate writer. Of the same thing there was 
quite as signal, though not so celebrated an exam- 
ple in one of the Southern States, nearly seventy 
years ago. A gentleman who had consummate 
powers as a public speaker, who greatly exceeded 
all his fellow members of the legislative body to 
which he belonged in bold, fervid and overpower- 
ing eloquence, was at the same lime, with his 
pen, powerless. He could scarcely write a com- 
mon letter without manifesting an awkwardness, a 
feebleness, and a want of acquaintance with the 
most obvious rules of grammar, truly discreditable. 



344 POSTSCRIPT TO LETTER XI. 

Let me entreat you, then, from the very com- 
mencement of your course in college, to be libe- 
ral and constant in the use of the pen. Let no day 
pass without writing something. Summon to your 
aid in this matter all sorts of composition. Write 
letters, speeches, abstracts of striking, eloquent 
volumes, which admit of the process; peruse, and 
re-peruse the best models; and spare no pains to 
acquire the happy art of embodying and presenting 
your thoughts in that clear, simple, direct, lively 
and powerful manner which will indicate that 
you are familiar with the precepts of the elegant 
Horace, and with the example of the great Gre- 
cian orator. 



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observes, " I am as much gratified by the elegance and fine taste 
of your edition, as by the noble tribute of genius and moral excel- 
lence which these delightful authors have left for all future gene- 
rations; and Cowper especially, is not less conspicuous as a true 
Christian moralist and teacher than as a poet of great power and 
exquisite taste." 

THE POETICAL WORKS OF ROGERS, CAMPBELL, 
MONTGOMERY, LAMB, AND KIRK WHITE, complete in 
1 vol. 8vo. 

MILTON, YOUNG, GRAY, BEATTIE, AND COLLINS' 
POETICAL WORKS, complete in 1 vol. 8vo. 

THE POETICAL WORKS OF MRS. HEMANS, com- 
plete in 1 vol. 8vo. 

^jf This is a new and complete edition, with a splendid en- 
graved likeness of Mrs. Hemans, on steel. 

" As no work in the English language can be commended with 
more confidence, it will argue bad tasre in a female in this coun- 
try to be without a complete edition of the writings of one who 
was an honour to her sex and to humanity, and whose productions, 
from first to last, contain no syllable calculated to call a blush to 
the cheek of modesty and virtue. There is, moreover, in Mrs. 
Hemans' poetry a moral purity, and a religious feeling, which 
commend it, in an especial manner, to the discriminating reader. 
No parent or guardian will be under the necessity of imposing 
restrictions with regard to the free perusal of every production 
emanating from this gifted woman. There breathes throughout 
the whole a most eminent exemption from impropriety of thought 
or diction; and there is at times a pensiveness of tone, a winning 



2 

sadness in her more serious compositions, which tells of a soul 
which has been lifted from the contemplation of terrestrial things 
to divine communings with beings of a purer world." 

HEBER, POLLOK and CRABBE'S POETICAL WORKS 
complete in 1 vol. 8vo. 

" Among the beautiful, valuable, and interesting volumes which 
the enterprise and taste of our publishers have presented to the 
reading community, we have seldom met with one which we 
have more cordially greeted and can more confidently and satis- 
factorily recommend, than that, embracing in a single, substan- 
tial, well-bound, and handsomely printed octavo, the poetical 
works of Bishop Heber, Robert Pollok, and the Rev. George 
Crabbe. What a constellation of poetic ardor, glowing piety, and 
intellectual brilliancy! Such writers require no eulogy. Their 
fame is established and universal. The sublimity, pathos, and 
piety of all these writers, have given them a rank at once with 
the lovers of poetry and the friends of religion, unsurpassed per- 
haps by that of any other recent authors in our language. A more 
delightful addition could scarcely be made to the library of the 
gentleman or lady of taste and refinement. The prize poems, 
hymns, and miscellaneous writings of Bishop Heber, the 'Course 
of Time' by Pollok, and the rich, various, and splendid produc- 
tions of the Rev. George Crabbe, are among the standard works, 
the classics of our language. To obtain and preserve them in one 
volume, cannot but be a desirable object to their admirers." And 
it is to be hoped it will be found in the library of every family. 

A writer in the Boston Traveller holds the following language 
with reference to these valuable editions: — 

Mr. Editor— I wish, without any idea of puffing, to say a word 
or two upon the " Library of English Poets" that is now published 
at Philadelphia, by Grigg & Elliot. It is certainly, taking into 
consideration the elegant manner in which it is printed, and the 
reasonable price at which it is afforded to purchasers, the best edi- 
tion of the modern British Poets that has ever been published in 
this country. Each volume is an octavo of about 500 pages, dou- 
ble columns, stereotyped, and accompanied with fine engravings 
and biographical sketches, and most of them are reprinted from 
Galignani's French edition. As to its value we need only men- 
tion that it contains the entire works of Montgomery, Gray, Beat- 
tie, Collins, Byron, Cowper, Thomson, Burns, Milton, Young, 
Scott, Moore, Coleridge, Rogers, Campbell, Lamb, Hemans, 
Heber, Kirk White, Crabbe, the Miscellaneous Works of Gold- 
smith, and other martyrs of the lyre. The publishers are doing 
a great service by their publication, and their volumes are almost 
in as great demand as the fashionable novels of the day, and they 
deserve to be so, for they are certainly printed in a style superior 
to that in which we have before had the works of the English 
Poets. 

BURDER'S VILLAGE SERMONS, or 101 Plain and Short 
Discourses on the principal doctrines of the Gospel; intended for 
the use of Families, Sunday Schools, or companies assembled for 
religious instruction in country villages. By George Burder. 
To which is added to each Sermon, a short Prayer, with some 
general prayers for families, schools, &c, at the end of the work. 
Complete in 1 vol. 8vo. 



_ These sermons, which are characterised by a beautiful simpli- 
city, the entire absence of controversy, and a true evangelical 
spirit, have gone through many and large editions, and been 
translated into several of the continental languages. " They have 
also been the honoured means not only of converting many indi- 
viduals, but also of introducing the Gospel into districts, and even 
into parish churches, where before it was comparatively un- 
known." 

"This work fully deserves the immortality it has attained." 

This is a fine library edition of this invaluable work, and when 
we say that it should be found in the possession of every family, 
we only reiterate the sentiments and sincere wishes of all who 
take a deep interest in the eternal welfare of mankind. 

THE AMERICAN CHESTERFIELD; or "Youth's Guide 
to the Way to Wealth, Honour and Distinction," &c: containing 
also a complete Treatise on the art of Carving. 

" We most cordially recommend the American Chesterfield to 
general attention; but to young persons particularly, as one of the 
best works of the kind that has ever been published in this coun- 
try. It cannot be too highly appreciated, nor its perusal be unpro- 
ductive of satisfaction and usefulness." 

BOOK OF POLITENESS.— The Gentleman and Lady's 
Book of Politeness and Propriety of Deportment. Dedicated to 
the Youth of both sexes. By Madame Celnart. Translated from 
the sixth Paris edition, enlarged and improved. Fifth American 
edition. 

THE DAUGHTER'S OWN BOOK; or, Practical Hints from 
a Father to his Daughter. In 1 vol. 18mo. 

This is one of the most practical and truly valuable treatises 
on the culture and discipline of the female mind, which has hith- 
erto been published in this country, and the publishers are very 
confident, from the great demand for this invaluable little work, 
that ere long it will be found in the library of everv voung lady. 

BENNET'S (Rev. John) LETTERS TO A YOUNG LADY, 
on a variety of subjects calculated to improve the heart, to form 
the manners, and enlighten the understanding. " That our Daugh- 
ters may be as polished corners of the Temple." 

The publishers sincerely hope, {for the happiness of mankind,) 
that a copy of this valuable little work will be found the compa- 
nion of every young lady, as much of the happiness of every 
familv depends on the proper cultivation of the female mind. 

SENECA'S MORALS— By way of abstract, to which is add- 
ed^ Discourse, under the title of an After-Thought, by Sir Roger 
L'Estrange, Knt. A new fine edition, in 1 vol. 18mo. 

A copv of this valuable little work should be found in every 
familv library. 

THE BEAUTIES OF HISTORY, or Examples of the Op- 
posite Effects of Virtue and Vice, for the use of Schools and 
Families, with Questions for the Examination of Students. 1 vol. 
12mo., with plates. 

This work is introduced into our High School. It is particu- 
larly adapted for a Class Book in all our male and female semi- 
naries, &c. 

"We have received from the publishers, Messrs. Grigg & 



Elliot, a very neat duodecimo volume, entitled ' The Beauties of 
History; or, Examples of the opposite effects of Virtue and Vice, 
drawn from real life.' After a careful examination of this book, 
we can conscientiously recommend it to parents and teachers as 
a most meritorious performance. There are here collected, 
within a narrow compass, the most striking examples of indivi- 
dual virtue and vice, which are spread forth on the pages of his- 
tory, or are recorded in personal biography. The noblest precepts 
are recommended for the guidance of youth; and in the most im- 
pressive manner is he taught to conquer the degrading impulses 
which lower the standard of the human character. We have not 
lately met with a volume which, in design and execution, seemed 
so acceptable as this. The book, moreover, is handsomely got up, 
and illustrated with wood engravings." 

A DICTIONARY OF SELECT AND POPULAR ClUO- 
TATIONS, which are in daily use: taken from the Latin, 
French, Greek, Spanish, and Italian languages; together with a 
copious collection of Law maxims and Law terms; translated into 
English, with illustrations, historical and idiomatic. Sixth Ame- 
rican edition, corrected with additions. 1 vol. 12mo. 

In preparing this sixth edition for the press, care has been 
taken to give the work a thorough revision, to correct some errors 
which had before escaped notice, and to insert many additional 
Quotations, Law maxims and Law terms. In this state it is 
offered to the public in the stereotype form. This little work 
should find its way into everv family library. 

GOLDSMITH'S ANIMATED NATURE, in 4 vols. 8vo., 
beautifully illustrated. 

"Goldsmith can never be made obsolete, "-hile delicate eenius, 
exquisite feeling, fine invention, the most harmonious metre, and 
the happiest diction are at all valued." 

This is a work that should be in the Library of every family, 
being written by one of the most talented authors in the English 
language. 

JOSEPHUS'S (FLAVIUS) WORKS. By the late William 
Whiston, A. M. From the last London edition, complete. 

As a matter of course, every family in our country has a copy 
of the Holy Bible — and as the presumption is, the greater portion 
often consult its pages, we take the liberty of saying to all those 
that do, that the perusal of the writings of Josephus will be found 
very interesting and instructing. 

All those who wish to possess a beautiful and correct copy of 
this invaluable work, would do well to purchase this edition. It 
is for sale at all the principal bookstores in the United States, by 
country merchants generally in the Southern and Western States. 

*** Public, private, and social libraries, and all who purchase to 
sell again, supplied on the most reasonable terms with every article 
in the Book and Stationary line; including new novels, and all new 
works in every department of literature and science. AH orders will 
be thankfully received and promptly attended to. 









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